Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter IV Lean On Me
by TracyJean
Summary: Everyone needs someone to lean on sometimes, and Harm and Mac have many people they can count on, but what happens when events threaten to overwhelm the newly married couple?
1. Chapter 1

The first seven parts of this have been posted at my website, but I'm just now getting around to posting it here (mostly because I needed to edit one part so that it is not adults-only). The first two parts of this actually take place during the same timeframe as the end of Chapter III of DOALS during the week before Mac returns to work, laying the groundwork so to speak, and then part 3 will pick up immediately where Chapter III ended.

And I apologize in advance...this part (and part 7, once I post it) are Mic-centric. I've got places to go with him before he makes his exit. Not the kind of places he went in Stormy Weather/Searching For Sunny Skies, but he's not going to make things easy for Harm and Mac either.

* * *

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

1 JUNE 2001

OFFICE OF BRUMBY & BRUMBY

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mic looked up from the ledger book open on his desk with a heavy sigh. He hadn't planned on coming in here, not yet. Since he'd returned from Norfolk, he'd tried to avoid thinking about what he was going to do now, and a part of that meant steering clear of any thought of Brumby & Brumby. Unfortunately, despite his hopes, it was only going to be 'Brumby' now. There would be no '& Brumby'.

Monday night, after he'd arrived back in Washington, he'd drunk himself into a stupor so he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest where his heart had been ripped out. Tuesday had been payback – he hadn't experienced a hangover like that since he'd graduated from university, at which time he'd sworn he was never going to do it again. So much for the best laid plans, he'd thought.

He'd gone out to a bar Wednesday night. Not to drink – well, not to drink too much like the night before – but to see if he could find some companionship. After all, if it had been so easy for Mac to move from his bed to Harm's, why couldn't he do the same? He liked the ladies; he always had. Even engagement hadn't diminished his appreciation for looking at other women as he told himself that none could hold a candle to the one he was going to share his life with. But it wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would be. There'd been a leggy blonde, Cindy – or maybe it was Cissy – whom he'd offered to buy a drink for. But as he'd smelled her perfume, he couldn't help noting that it was a more floral scent than Mac would wear.

Frustrated that he couldn't put Mac out of his mind, he'd thought he could force her out. So he'd invited whatever-her-name-was to leave with him. As soon as they'd gotten to his car, he'd pulled her against him, letting his hands roam as his mouth plundered hers, but he was just going through the motions. All that went through his head was how she didn't taste like Mac, how her body didn't feel the same beneath his fingertips. He'd been the one betrayed, yet he'd felt like he was the traitor. The woman had been pissed off, but the voice in the back of his mind told him that there was no need to stoop to Mac's level by hopping so quickly into another's bed. He'd swatted the voice away, unable to let himself think of Mac that way, even after everything.

A trip to his favorite gym was on tap for Thursday so that he could take out his frustrations on a punching bag. The best thing he could say about that was that he'd managed to wear himself out so that he actually slept that night without being tormented by dreams of what he'd lost.

Now it was Friday, the first of the month, and it seemed like a good day to try to start his life over. First on the agenda was finding a new place to live, since he'd given up the lease on his apartment - which had been getting harder to afford anyway - in order to move in with Mac. However, in order to find a place within his price range, he needed to sit down and go over his finances to figure out what he could afford. Part of that was figuring out if he could afford to keep his law practice open, which meant a trip into the office to go over the financial records for Brumby & Brumby.

Unfortunately, the finances of the firm didn't give him much cause for hope. He'd been doing pretty steady business, but when most of your clients were in the military, there wasn't a lot of money to be made. The military just didn't pay that much, so he'd tried to keep his rates reasonable so that more could afford his services, plus he was fighting against the reality that the military offered its members free legal service. There weren't that many people willing to pay money for a civilian attorney when they could get a military lawyer for free.

He thought for a brief moment about going back to Larry Kaliski, hat in hand, asking for his old job back. He considered it – and then just as quickly dismissed the idea. His old boss was unlikely to be bowled over by his charm, and Mic wasn't a person who would stoop to groveling. Unfortunately, being on the outs with Kaliski meant being on the outs with the D.C. establishment.

There was still the Royal Australian Navy. He was a reserve officer, and it should be relatively simple to return to active duty. He just wasn't sure how welcome he would be given that he'd already talked about returning once, but had ended up not doing so once Mac had agreed to marry him. Would Captain Howell want to take back someone who just a few months earlier seemed unable to make up his mind? First he was staying in the US, then he was going back to the RAN, but then he wasn't, all in the space of less than a week.

Glancing at his watch, he quickly calculated the time difference. It was nearly 1700 in Washington, so it was just about 0700 on Saturday morning in Sydney. There wouldn't be many people in the legal office today, but maybe whoever was pulling weekend duty would be an old mate and would be able to give him an idea of the lay of the land.

Hoping that the expensive call was going to be worth it, he picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. After two rings, a familiar voice answered, "Defence Legal Office, HMAS Kuttabul, Petty Officer Stone speaking. How may I direct your call?"

"What did a sweet lass like you do to get stuck with weekend duty?" Mic teased. Alysia Stone had been a fixture at HMAS Kuttabul for as long as he could remember. A Sydney native, she had taken the first opportunity to be assigned to her home town. As a bright, bubbly blonde, she reminded him a lot of an enlisted Harriet Sims – or rather, Harriet had reminded him of a commissioned Alysia Stone. She was one of those people who seemed to brighten the room just by saying 'G'day' and most of the office thought of her as a little sister.

"Commander Brumby," Alysia exclaimed. "It's good to hear your voice, Sir. And I volunteered for duty – there's a cute new Petty Officer up in Admin. He got stuck with weekend duty since he's new here, so I told him I'd work and keep him company."

Mic laughed. Alysia was one of the biggest flirts he knew, although she always adhered strictly to the imaginary line between enlisted and officers. "You've got a big heart, lass," he joked.

"I know," she replied. "So what can I do for you, Commander?"

He had to admit that it felt good to be addressed by his rank again. He'd been part of something with the RAN that had been missing from his life in the U.S. Before, he'd thought that what he'd gained had been worth the loss of his former identity. "Just calling to make sure the place was running without me," he replied, forcing a light tone.

"It's running, Sir," she replied, "but it's not quite the same without you."

"Thank you, Petty Officer," he replied. "So what rube got stuck with duty on this beautiful day?"

"Sir, I think all that time living in America has gotten your seasons mixed up," she joked. "We're heading into winter down here and it's raining."

"But Sydney's still got some of the best weather on the planet," he reminded her.

"True, Sir," she said. "And to answer your question – can you hold on a moment, Sir?"

Mic could hear indistinct murmurings in the background, and then another familiar voice came over the line. "Mate, when are you going to talk that lovely lady of yours into letting the two of you come back to Oz?" Lieutenant Commander Peter Lockwood asked.

Mic flinched at the reminder of Mac, but it didn't come through in his voice when he replied, "Oh, I don't know, Pete. I think about coming home all the time. So how'd you get stuck there on the weekend?" He and Pete had arrived at HMAS Kuttabul only a month apart and had quickly become friends. If Pete had been able to swing some leave time – and afford the plane ticket – Mic would have had him standing up…

Mic shook his head, trying to banish the thought before it completely formed, but it was no use. A picture formed in his head of Mac standing at the altar – not in her wedding dress, which he'd never been lucky enough to see – but in the linen suit she'd worn to the rehearsal. She took his hand, but then the vision distorted, and he was standing at the back of the church, watching Rabb take her hand in his.

Lost in the thought of what he'd lost, it took him a moment to drag himself back into the conversation, nearly missing it as Pete said, "I had no intention of being here. Laurie and I had a little getaway planned, but that was before the son of a Senator allegedly got into a fight with his wife, then nine hours later navigated a patrol boat into the dock. His CO wants him hung from a yardarm, but his old man is muddying the waters, so Howell wanted me on it immediately. It doesn't help that the bloke told anyone who would listen how pissed he was at his wife."

"I can do you one better," Mic replied. "Got an officer here who was out on a carrier qualifying on an F-14. The man was in a rush to get back to his woman, so he took off in a storm and the plane ended up in the Atlantic Ocean a little less than one hundred miles off the coast of North Carolina."

"Don't tell me you're defending the bloke?" Pete asked.

"No," Mic said emphatically, wincing at the forcefulness of his voice. Aware that Pete knew him well enough to catch his tone, he made himself add nonchalantly, "I know the people involved from my time here in the exchange program."

"Oh," Pete said. If he suspected that was less than the full truth, Mic couldn't hear it in his voice. "Too bad you're not active, mate. You'd hit this one out of the park on prosecution."

"Your case or the one here?" Mic asked, relishing the thought for a moment. He knew that even if he was still working at JAG, Admiral Chegwidden would know better than to let him anywhere near Rabb's case, but it didn't hurt to dream.

"Either one," Pete replied. "If you were here, you'd probably get to investigate the Senator's son."

"I don't know," Mic said. "Howell probably isn't happy that I ended up not coming back in December."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Pete countered. "Besides, I think he understood what is keeping you in the U.S. Speaking of which, have you taken the plunge yet?"

Mic froze at the question. There was no way he could talk his way around such a direct query. "Ah, it didn't work out," he replied quietly.

"I'm sorry, mate," Pete said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Mic replied, although he was grateful for the offer. There was no one to talk to here. This entire situation had just vividly illustrated for him the fact that the first loyalty of all the people he'd counted as friends was not to him. Their allegiance belonged to Mac – and to Rabb – above all. Intellectually, he knew he couldn't blame them, but it wasn't that easy to admit that he couldn't really count on anyone here and that it hurt more than he thought it would.

"Well, the offer stands," Pete said. "So what now? You gave up your career and your home…sorry, I know you said you didn't want to talk about it. Have you given any thought to coming back to Oz? You're missed around here. I'm sure if you talk to Howell, he'd let you come back."

"I've considered it," Mic admitted, "but I've got some things to take care of here first." He glanced around the stark office, wondering who he was kidding. _I should just close up the place and get on the first plane back home,_ he thought. _Why should I even think about being here just to wait for Rabb to go down for this and for Sarah to come back, ready for me to help her pick up the pieces? The man should never have been in the air that night. If he hadn't, Sarah and I would be married, enjoying our honeymoon down in Oz right now. There's nothing I can do…_

"Mic, mate, you still there?" Pete asked.

Mic sighed. Maybe this hadn't been one of his brighter ideas – of course, he had no way of knowing that Pete would inadvertently rip open the wounds he'd been trying to bandage. "I'm here," he finally replied. "Just thinking about how soon I can wrap everything up here."

"You have that much to clear up before you return to your life?" Pete asked.

"Maybe," Mic said noncommittally. He glanced at his watch, mindful of the cost of the international call. "Listen, Pete, I need to head out – have things to take care of."

"Just let me know when you talk to Howell and decide to come back," he said. "We'll go out and have a brew to celebrate the prodigal son returning."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mic replied. "G'day, Pete."

"G'day."

Mic turned to stare out the lone window in the room after he hung up the phone. Was it a slam-dunk case against Rabb? He wasn't so sure. The case was strong, but the man was like Houdini. He had a history of making his way out of the tightest spots, or so he'd heard tell.

He knew that there were going to be questions about why Rabb had even been in the air that night, especially given the fact that the new Mrs. Rabb had been planning to marry another man right up until Rabb crashed. Anyone could connect the dots and deduce that Rabb had been planning to stop the wedding and steal the bride away for himself, which he'd ended up doing after all – just not in the way he'd probably intended.

Grabbing his Rolodex off the corner of the desk, he flipped through the cards. He knew he had to have the number somewhere. Turning to the Ns, he pulled a card out, staring at it for a long moment. Telling himself that they were probably going to want to talk to him sooner or later, he reached for the phone again, hesitating for a moment before he dialed the number. Even if he ended up burning his bridges with Mac, he did have a duty as an officer of the court.

He wished he could know that what he was thinking about doing would make a difference, but he knew it could blow up in his face. Mac might say now that she hadn't wanted to hurt him and that she was sorry, but that might change if he did this. She could end up hating him if she saw him as responsible for Rabb going down.

_No,_ he thought. _If Rabb goes down, it will be his own fault. I didn't force him to leave the carrier that night. He's the one who got into the cockpit without his head being completely in the game._

With a heavy sigh, he set the phone down. Was it worth it to put himself in the middle of this? Rabb shouldn't have been flying that night, and even if he said nothing, that fact wasn't going to change. Maybe he should just sit back and let everything play out, trusting that everything would work out as it was meant to.

Mic shook his head. There were going to be questions, and some of those questions were going to be directed at him. Those questions were going to be there whether or not he waited and let the investigators come to him. He did have information material to an ongoing investigation, and he was an officer of the court.

Picking up the phone again, he quickly dialed the number on the card. After a moment, the line was picked up on the other end. "Trial Services Office East, Petty Officer Johnson speaking. How may I direct your call?"

"Yes, this is Mic Brumby," he said, vaguely recognizing the name and voice from his dealings with the Norfolk TSO office while he'd been at JAG. Perhaps the Petty Officer would remember him as well and give him the help he needed with as few questions as possible. "I used to work at JAG Headquarters in Washington. Can you tell me who is handling the investigation into the crash of the F-14 off the _Patrick Henry_? I have some information for the investigators."

"Commander Brumby, right?" Johnson asked. "You were involved in the case of those sailors that beat up the guy at Breakers a couple of years back. So was Commander Rabb, as I recall."

"That's correct," Mic confirmed.

"Well, scuttlebutt says JAG is being kept as far away from this one as possible right now," Johnson said. "Understandable, I guess. Commander Rabb is pretty well known around this office. Anyway, the investigation is being handled by the office of the Force Judge Advocate for COMNAVAIRLANT."

"You wouldn't have a contact phone number by chance?" he asked. "I'd like to leave a message for the lead investigator."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

This is the last bit of background before we get back to where DOALS Chapter III left off.

* * *

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

7 JUNE 2001

NAVAL STATION NORFOLK

Sturgis considered himself to be somewhat stoic, but even he couldn't suppress the shudder when he saw the pieces of Navy 241 laid out on the hangar floor. Although he had conducted an aircraft mishap investigation or two during his career, he could hardly consider himself an expert, but even he could tell that a large percentage of the aircraft was still missing.

Pulling his gaze away from the wreckage, Sturgis glanced around the hangar, catching site of an older man in khakis in the far corner, conferring over a piece of debris with another man dressed in coveralls. From his position, Sturgis thought he could make out a silver oak leaf on the right collar. It didn't look like Commander Fleming, the force judge advocate for COMNAVAIRLANT, whom he'd met a few years back while both were in Pearl, so it had to be Commander Barelski, assigned to the investigation as the lead engineer. Sturgis made his way over to the two men, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"It looks like that confirms our theory on the ejection seat," Barelski said. "Make sure you type up your findings on that and put it on my desk." He turned, having noticed Sturgis approaching out of the corner of his eye. He held out his hand. "Commander Turner? I'm Commander Patrick Barelski."

"Commander Sturgis Turner," Sturgis replied, accepting the handshake. "Do you have a few minutes to discuss what you've found so far?"

"Of course," he replied. He turned back to the other man, "Russell, get that report on my desk and make sure I'm informed immediately if any more of the oxygen system is found."

"Aye, Sir," Russell replied, coming to attention then turning on his heel and leaving. Barelski motioned Sturgis back towards the wreckage.

"What was that about the ejection seat?" Sturgis asked as they walked back towards the front of the hangar.

"From the radio transmissions from Navy 241 during the incident," Barelski explained, "and from the fact that Commander Rabb was found about twenty-five miles from where Lieutenant Hawkes was, we knew that he had a hard time ejecting. From what we could gather, the ejection mechanism seems to have jammed. The marks we found on the apparatus are deeper than we'd expect to find just from the ejection itself, which seems to confirm that the seat was stuck. It's just one of the things we've been looking at."

"As a symptom of a larger problem with the aircraft?" Sturgis asked.

"Probably," Barelski said. "Commander Lockness is on his way here from the _Henry_ with all the maintenance reports on that bird for the last six months. We do know that a few weeks ago, Navy 241 experienced a hard landing on the carrier."

"So you think that something got knocked around on the aircraft?" Sturgis pressed.

"It's our operating theory at the moment," Barelski replied. "From the radio transmissions, we also know that 241 was having problems with her systems even before the lightning strike. Are you familiar with the story of Apollo 13, Commander?"

"Of course," Sturgis answered. "A damaged heat coil in the oxygen tank sparked during their cryo stir."

"According to the movie," Barelski said. "If you read the book _Lost Moon_, Captain Lovell went into greater detail on what caused the damaged heat coil. Almost two years before the flight, the tank in question was dropped a total of five centimeters when being removed from a service module. A five centimeter drop started a chain reaction that nearly cost three astronauts their lives, yet during inspection of the tank after the incident, no damage had been detected."

"So you're thinking some kind of chain reaction here," Sturgis said, putting the pieces together. "The hard landing knocked something loose in the oxygen system, damage that may not have been detected when the aircraft was checked out. Then Harm discovers the oxygen system isn't working, so they have to drop below 10,000 feet, where they can fly without wearing masks. That means they couldn't rise above the storm when it ended up in their flight path, leading to the lightning strikes which fried the rest of their systems. The hard landing may have also jammed Harm's ejection seat, explaining why he punched out so far away from Lieutenant Hawkes."

"That's our operational theory," Barelski confirmed.

"You told Russell to let you know when more of the oxygen system is recovered," Sturgis said. "Would it change your report in any way if you can't recover it?"

"I'm confident of my conclusions so far, Commander," Barelski replied. "Yes, it would help if we could back up the conclusions of our report with known facts, such as the exact condition of that oxygen system. However, there is enough empirical evidence to support our bottom line."

Sturgis looked around the hangar again. "How much of the aircraft have you recovered, exactly?" he asked.

"About sixty-five percent," Barelski answered. "There are a few key components still missing that we'd like to get our hands on – most of the oxygen system is still missing, for instance – but we do have quite a few parts that show the damage from the lightning strikes. A Coast Guard salvage ship should have just docked with some more debris, but we're probably not going to be able to recover much more past that."

"Understood," Sturgis said. At least the engineer sounded pretty confident in his conclusions. This wouldn't be like the inquiry into Harm's first crash. Pulling out his wallet, he took out a business card and handed it to Barelski. "Here's my e-mail address. If you could e-mail me a copy of your report once it's completed, I'd appreciate it. I'd also like a hard copy once it's signed off on. My office address on the card is an old one, but if you could give me your e-mail address, I'll send you the address you can mail the signed report to."

Barelski pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Sturgis. "E-mail address is on there," he said. "Depending on what's coming to us on the salvage ship, it could be a couple of weeks before I have my final report."

"That's fine, Commander," Sturgis assured him. "The mishap board isn't scheduled to meet until after the July 4th holiday, so that'll give me time to go over the report and see if there are any other questions I need answered." He glanced at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting at COMNAVAIRLANT with Commander Fleming at 1400."

"Of course, Commander," Barelski replied. "I'm expecting the debris off that salvage ship to be delivered here any time now, so I need to get back to sorting through everything here."

"Thank you for your time," Sturgis said. "I'll give you a call after I have your report if I have any questions about it."

As Barelski walked off, Sturgis looked again at the debris laid out on the floor. It hit home for him in a way it hadn't before just how close Harm had come to losing his life. If his ejection seat hadn't finally fired…He looked up, silently thanking God that Harm had come through this.

* * *

1400 HOURS

OFFICE OF THE FORCE JUDGE ADVOCATE, COMNAVAIRLANT

NAVAL STATION NORFOLK

"Thank you for coming in to see me, Sturgis," Fleming said, motioning Sturgis to a seat. "I received your discovery motion, and I thought we needed to talk."

"You're welcome, Bob," Sturgis replied. "I am a bit puzzled why you wanted me to come down to Norfolk. From what Commander Barelski was telling me, it seems a relatively clear cut case of mechanical failure."

"Yes, the condition of the Tomcat was a contributing factor," Bob said carefully. "Sturgis, you know that there are people higher up than us who are very interested in the investigation because of Commander Rabb's, um, history."

"I know about that," Sturgis said, puzzlement clear in his voice. Regardless of Harm's previous crash history, if the aircraft was in less than optimum condition, what possible contributing factors could they be looking at? It didn't make any sense to him, and he said as much. "I'm not sure what you mean about the condition of the aircraft being a contributing factor, Bob. Harm was in good physical condition before the crash, at least according to his last physical, and his eyes have long since been fixed. What else could there be?"

Fleming sighed. "I'm not questioning Commander Rabb's physical fitness to fly, Sturgis," he said. "I've seen the same physical fitness report you have." He trailed off, searching through a stack of folders on his desk.

"So just what are you questioning, Bob?" Sturgis asked bluntly. He couldn't say that he knew Bob well enough to call the man a friend, but they had worked enough cases together while in Pearl that he could tell when the other man was trying to soften a coming blow.

Fleming pulled a folder from the stack he was going through and held it out to Sturgis. "I think you should take a look at this, Sturgis," he said.

Sturgis took the folder warily and opened it, glancing quickly at the cover sheet of the report inside. It told him who had been interviewed and when, but it did nothing to tell him how this report was related to the mishap investigation. "Since I don't have time to read through this now," he said, "why don't you quickly summarize it for me? Who is Mic Brumby, and what does he have to do with Harm's crash?"

"Mic Brumby is a reservist in the Royal Australian Navy," Fleming explained. "Almost three years ago, when Lieutenant Commander Brumby was on active duty, he was sent to JAG HQ as part of an exchange program between our Navy and theirs. About a year later, he was recalled to Australia, and then about five months after that, he returned to Washington after having reserved his commission."

Sturgis listened, outwardly impassive, but inwardly he was impatient for Fleming to get to the point. So far, he hadn't heard anything that seemed to have anything to do with Harm's crash. He was about to say something, but Fleming held up his hand to stall him.

"I know, Sturgis," Fleming said. "So far, what I've told you seems to be immaterial to this investigation. The reason for Mr. Brumby's return to Washington, however, does appear to be pertinent to this case." He picked up something that appeared to be a card and handed it across the desk to Sturgis. Sturgis opened it and read the words printed inside. He read over the words a second and then a third time before he recognized the second name printed inside.

"I'm sure you've noticed the date on the wedding invitation," Fleming said.

"Yes," Sturgis replied, "but that doesn't mean the relationship didn't break off sometime before. This proves…what exactly?"

"According to Mr. Brumby," Fleming replied, "the wedding was still going forward. Mic Brumby and Sarah MacKenzie had their wedding rehearsal at St. Matthew the Apostle Cathedral in Washington on Friday night. The next time he saw her was on Sunday at Portsmouth, where she suddenly announced that she was Mrs. Harmon Rabb. It appears Commander Rabb was determined to stop that wedding, and that's why he flew through a storm to get back home that night."

"Is that all you have, Bob?" Sturgis asked tensely. "I hardly think the word of a jilted fiancé is going to be very credible."

"That's all I have so far, Sturgis," Fleming countered calmly. "Mr. Brumby also provided a list of everyone who was at the rehearsal dinner; it's there in his statement. I've already contacted Admiral Chegwidden and made arrangements to be in Washington on Monday to interview everyone on that list, with the exception of Colonel Rabb, of course."

Sturgis flipped through the pages in the folder until he found the list, recognizing the names of many of the people he'd met in the last few days at JAG, including his new commanding officer. He sighed inwardly, realizing that what had seemed like a relatively simple mishap investigation was quickly becoming increasingly complex. There had to be a way to refute this. The Harmon Rabb he'd known for twenty years had never let *anything* get in the way of his flying. It didn't make any sense that he would suddenly go against all those years of training and discipline. There had to be more to the story, he realized, making a mental note to talk to Mac when she returned to work on Monday.

"I want to be in on those depositions," Sturgis said firmly.

"Fine," Fleming replied. "I've got an appointment here first thing Monday morning, and I'll leave for Washington immediately afterward. Admiral Chegwidden said he would have someone set up a schedule for interviews beginning at 1300."

He paused, studying Sturgis intently. Sturgis returned the scrutiny, letting nothing of his thoughts show on his face. "Sturgis," Fleming continued, "I'm sorry. I don't want to believe it either. It seems to go against everything I've ever heard about the man, but I have no choice but to investigate this. There are too many people watching this investigation. If what Mr. Brumby claims is true, then I may have no choice but to recommend to the mishap board that they refer the case to an Article 32 for charges under Articles 108, 133, and 134."

"Destruction of military property, conduct unbecoming, and I assume the Article 134 charge would be dereliction of duty," Sturgis said. He'd been warned by Admiral Chegwidden that this case was going to be watched closely, but he'd never anticipated a situation where the Navy might want to throw the book at Harm. He wasn't looking forward to asking one of his closest friends whether he'd let competition with another man over a woman blind him to good sense and his duty. "Has COMNAVAIRLANT been briefed yet?"

"Not yet," Fleming said. "I'm waiting until I speak to the people at JAG. Sturgis, I don't want to railroad your client, but I do have to make sure everything in this investigation is done according to the letter of the law. If there's nothing to this, if Mic Brumby is simply a jilted lover out for revenge, then that will be it. However, if Commander Rabb took off from the _Henry_ that night for his own personal reasons despite the danger the weather posed, losing a forty-million dollar aircraft and nearly killing himself and his RIO in the process, then I will make sure he's nailed for it."

"Understood," Sturgis said tightly. A part of him wished that he was less his father's son so he could let loose with a few colorful phrases that might make even the crustiest sailor blush. Ten years ago, during the aftermath of Harm's ramp strike, Sturgis had been worried that his friend might lose his career, but other than support Harm, there was nothing he could do. This time, Harm's career was in his hands.

_God,_ he prayed silently_, please let me be up to the task._

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

_From Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter III – Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad…_

"Colonel," Sturgis said patiently, "some questions have come up in the course of my discussions with the mishap investigator, and I think you can shed some light on the answers."

"What kind of questions, Commander?" she asked, trying to ignore the heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. She was getting the feeling that she was not going to like where he was heading with this.

Sturgis sighed and looked down at the floor, as if pondering his answer. Finally, he looked back up and said, "The mishap investigator has some information that suggests Harm should never have been in the air that night, and that he insisted on flying, despite the risk from the weather."

"Are you trying to tell me, Commander," Mac demanded, "that it's been suggested that Harm purposely risked his life – and Skates' life – to get back to D.C. to me?"

* * *

MONDAY MORNING

11 JUNE 2001

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac's gaze bore into Sturgis, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the intense scrutiny. He'd thought it would be better to approach Mac rather than a still recovering Harm, but he now doubted the wisdom of his choice. However, now that he'd started this, he had no choice but to press on. "Who is Mic Brumby?" he asked.

"If you know enough to ask that question, Commander," Mac said with barely concealed anger, "then I'm sure you already know the answer to that. Mic is my ex-fiancé."

"Unfortunately, Colonel," Sturgis said, "that's not what Mr. Brumby told the mishap investigator."

"Mic did what?!" she demanded, her voice raised.

Turning his head, Sturgis could see activity in the bullpen come to a sudden stop at her exclamation. It wasn't really surprising. He'd been hearing whispers ever since he'd started at JAG, whispers about Harm and Mac, although he'd tried to pay no attention to what they were saying, telling himself it was none of his business. Now, it was going to be impossible to avoid. Deciding not to add grist to the gossip mill, he got up and closed Mac's office door while she took a moment to compose herself.

As he sat back down, Mac seemed even more furious, her eyes flashing in rage. "Why don't you tell me *exactly* what Mic told the mishap investigator, Commander," she insisted.

Quietly, he summarized Mic's statement for her. "He doesn't come right out and say it," he finished, "but he insinuates that Harm probably insisted on leaving the carrier so he could get back in time to stop the wedding."

"That – that..." She sputtered, and then surprised Sturgis by letting loose with a string of what he assumed were curses in a foreign language. He listened impassively, deciding it was best to just let her fury burn out.

After a moment, her tirade died out, and she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead as if to ward off a headache. "If you think about it, Commander," she said, "it makes no sense. Even if I'd still planned to marry Mic that day, Harm could have waited out the storm and still made it back to D.C. in time for the wedding. It doesn't matter, though. Harm wouldn't have stopped the wedding. I would've thought you knew him well enough to know that."

Sturgis remained silent, holding back the thought that the Harm he knew would hardly have gotten married under these circumstances. A statement like that would only make Mac angrier and would do nothing to help him figure out how to defend against this. "What do you mean 'if you'd still planned to marry'?" he asked, suddenly realizing what she'd said.

"I'd decided the night before to call off the wedding," she said, her voice calmer. She turned her chair, staring out the window. "I told Harm before he left the carrier. I even told him he could wait until morning to return to D.C, and that he should spend the night in Norfolk. I was worried that he'd be too tired to drive home. He'd said the storms were out of his flight path, so it never occurred to me…"

Sturgis considered this information as Mac fell silent, apparently lost in the memories of that night. He now had two people who could say the wedding was off, but he wasn't sure that was going to be of much help to the case. Yes, Mic Brumby could be painted as vengeful and angry, but it would be just as easy for Fleming to paint Harm and Mac as desperate to say anything to save Harm's career. Although the mishap board might not see it that way, Sturgis could never believe that Harm would lie; he did know Harm well enough to be able to say that about him. "Did you tell anyone else that the wedding had been called off?" he asked.

Mac turned back around, her eyes suspiciously moist. "Harriet, my matron of honor," she replied, "and Chloe, my little sister. They were both in my apartment when Harm called to say he was leaving the carrier, and I told them after I got off the phone with him. I'd tried to call Mic, but he was out at his bachelor party. I didn't know where. I left messages on both his home and cell phones – Harriet even called Bud's cell phone trying to find the men and I'd called Alan Mattoni's wife Jackie - but Mic hadn't called me back by the time I went to bed, and then Captain Ingles called a few hours later…" She turned away again as her voice broke.

Sturgis made a note on the legal pad in his lap to get Mac's phone records. Although it could be turned to suggest that Mac just wanted to talk to her fiancé before the big day, those records would support her version of events, especially since Mic wasn't the only person she'd tried to call. He just wished he had a more impartial witness who could testify to the cancelled wedding instead of just the best friend and the sister of the bride.

Regardless, he made a note to make sure that he asked Harriet about the conversation when she was interviewed by Fleming that afternoon. Chloe was going to be trickier. He knew from Mic's statement that she'd already returned to her home in Vermont and that she was only fourteen. He couldn't just call her back to Washington to get a statement from her. Perhaps he could get someone from Brunswick or Groton to travel to Vermont and talk to her. He wrote down a reminder to inquire with one of the JAG branch offices up there.

Mac turned to face him again, her expression calmer. "What do you need from me, Commander?" she asked.

"After reading your fiancé's…" He broke off at the angry glare she shot him and quickly amended, "ex-fiancé's statement, I made a list of questions that I need to ask you. I don't know if you've heard yet, but Mr. Brumby gave Commander Fleming a list of everyone who was at your rehearsal that Friday night. Fleming is going to be down here this afternoon to interview everyone on the list, except for you, of course. He can't compel you to testify against Harm, but I need to get a statement from you so that I can work out a defense against this."

"A defense against this?" Mac demanded. "I just told you that Harm, Harriet, Chloe and I can all tell you what happened. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"Colonel, with all due respect," Sturgis replied, "you're not thinking like an attorney right now. Commander Fleming can say that you and Harm are willing to say anything to protect him, and that you've gotten your best friend and sister to lie for you."

"I can't believe that you would suggest…" she began, her voice growing angry again. Sturgis began to realize that he'd badly miscalculated in his last statement. "It sounds to me like you think that I'd have a reason to ask them to lie. You think it's my fault that Harm crashed."

"Listen, Colonel," Sturgis said, beginning to lose his composure, "unlike you, I am thinking like an attorney right now. It's my job to get Harm through this investigation. This isn't about you, or what I think about you. He's facing an inquiry, and if I can't refute Mr. Brumby's statement, Commander Fleming said that he's probably going to recommend charges under Articles 108, 133 and 134. I know I don't have to tell you what that means. At the very least, he could have his wings yanked permanently. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what the worst-case scenario is."

"That won't happen, Commander," Mac said firmly. "I know my husband. I know that he has never let personal feelings interfere…" Her voice trailed off, and for a brief moment, Sturgis caught a hint of something in her expression that made him wonder what the history was there. He shook his head. Harm and Mac's relationship wasn't any of his business, outside of how it affected the mishap investigation. Other than that, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to know about it. "If you don't believe in Harm, then maybe he needs to find another representative."

"I do believe in Harm, Colonel," he said, leaning forward in his chair. His gaze met hers and he put every bit of persuasion he could into his voice. "Help me refute Mr. Brumby's statement. If we can do that, then I can get this investigation focused back where it belongs – on the condition of the Tomcat. From what I've heard from the engineers, that jet was quite possibly in no condition to be in the air. The rest of this is just clouding the real issue here."

"Commander," she began with a sigh, interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Holding a hand up in a silent signal, she picked up the handset. "Colonel Rabb."

She listened, an intent look on her face. "Yes, I spoke to the Admiral," she said, opening a folder on her desk. "I think that would be fine, Commander. I've got someone in my office right now, so give me a few minutes to finish up here and I'll meet you downstairs in about ten minutes…Yes, I've heard about that. I'm sure we can get back by then."

Mac set the phone back down and turned her attention back to Sturgis. "I'm going to be heading down to Quantico with Commander Mattoni," she explained. "He needs to meet with his client, and I should talk to the MPs about this case the Admiral assigned me. We'll need to talk about this later. I should be back early this afternoon so that Alan is back in time for his interview with Commander Fleming."

"This afternoon won't be good for me, Colonel," Sturgis said. "I told Commander Fleming that I wanted to be in on the interviews when he speaks to the people here this afternoon."

"Let me get back to you then, Commander," Mac said, setting her briefcase on her desk and opening it, tossing a folder inside. She closed it again with a snap. "Depending on how things go in Quantico today, maybe I'll have some time tomorrow to sit down with you."

"Good, Colonel," Sturgis said. He hesitated a moment, then added, "I'd also like a chance to talk to Harm as soon as possible."

"I'll see if he's up to it," Mac said protectively. "That's all I can promise right now."

Sturgis decided not to press that issue – yet. He realized that he'd already gotten off on the wrong foot with Mac and didn't want to stir things up further. All bets were off if he felt that she was stonewalling him, but he'd play it her way for now. If she believed in Harm as much as she claimed to, then she wouldn't keep him from defending Harm to the best of his ability. "That's acceptable," he agreed. "Even if it's not to talk about the investigation, I still would like to stop by and see Harm sometime."

"I'll check with Harm tonight," she said. "Since he's been out of the hospital, he's only seen the family, although just about everyone from the office has checked up on him by phone."

Sturgis knew that, as he'd called a couple of times himself. The first time, there had been clear signs of fatigue in Harm's voice, so Sturgis had cut the conversation short. The second time, Harm had ended the conversation after a few minutes when his family had arrived for dinner.

"I'm sure Harm would be happy to see an old friend," Mac continued. "Maybe we can have you over for dinner one evening."

"I'd like that, Colonel," Sturgis said, smiling. The expression dropped from his face when she stared at him stonily. He decided to take the hint. "Why don't you get with me before the end of the day, and we can work out a time when we can talk." He stood, tucking his notepad under his arm.

"I'll do that, Commander," Mac agreed. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Of course, Colonel," he replied before opening her office door and leaving, closing the door behind him. As he turned toward Harm's office, he could see Mac through the blinds, slumping in her chair, a hand covering her eyes. For a moment, he wished that he had his father's way of comforting people. Maybe then he could have kept control of the conversation, helped Mac realize that he wasn't her enemy. There was no reason for him and Mac to be at cross purposes, since they both had Harm's best interests at heart.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

MONDAY AFTERNOON

11 JUNE 2001

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac tossed her briefcase on the floor behind her desk with a frustrated sigh and plopped down in her chair. This case was so far shaping up to be a colossal waste of her time, but at least it was Mattoni dealing with the defense and not her. There was no way right now that she'd be able to deal with an obviously guilty client. What had the Admiral been thinking giving her this case? A newly minted lawyer barely past the bar exam could probably win a conviction in his sleep. She was a senior attorney and the Admiral's Chief of Staff.

Propping her elbows on the desk, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, wondering what the Admiral would say if she asked to take a couple of hours of leave time and to head on home. Despite the fact that JAG had been shorthanded the past two and a half weeks, she felt that she would be a lot more use at home than she currently was at work.

"Colonel?" Harriet asked.

Mac looked up, startled, to find Harriet standing in the door, a worried expression on the younger woman's face. She hadn't even heard her approach. Smiling weakly, she motioned Harriet into the office. Harriet closed the door behind her and sat down, studying Mac intently.

Mac pretended not to notice the scrutiny, busying herself with checking her e-mail. She'd tried to keep up with it while she'd been on leave, but keeping her inbox manageable had hardly been foremost in her mind. "Is there something I can do for you, Lieutenant?" she asked, not unkindly, but purposely using Harriet's rank in the hope that she could keep the conversation professional.

"Actually, I wanted to see how you're doing, Ma'am," Harriet said. "I was just interviewed by Commanders Fleming and Turner and – and I can't believe Mic would do something like that!"

"He's angry," Mac said quietly with a shrug. She continued before Harriet could reply. "Harriet, we probably shouldn't talk about this. We don't want it to look like I'm influencing your testimony in any way."

"But is it really going to get that far, Ma'am?" Harriet asked in a worried tone. "Several of us knew that you were planning to call off the wedding. I told Bud, and the Admiral figured it out on his own…" She trailed off at Mac's expression. "Sorry, Ma'am, but everyone here knows what flying means to Commander Rabb. There's no way any of us could think what's being suggested."

"I know, Harriet," Mac said, "and I appreciate that. I'm sure Harm will, too. But..."

"I know," Harriet said reluctantly. "We shouldn't talk about the case."

"It'll be okay, Harriet," Mac said, trying to assure herself as much as the other woman. "Just tell the truth, and everything will come out as it's supposed to…" She trailed off, focusing her gaze on her computer monitor again.

"Colonel…Mac, how are you doing?" Harriet asked. Mac looked up from her work again, not really surprised at her forwardness. Although Harriet understood the lines that had to be respected in the military, she sometimes managed to set protocol aside out of concern for her friends.

Mac forced a smile, although she could see Harriet wasn't quite convinced. "I'm fine," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "Just trying to get back into the swing of things at work. I guess it's good that things seem so quiet around here right now. It'll give me a chance to concentrate on my husband…"

"You like saying that," Harriet said.

"I guess I never thought it was going to happen," Mac admitted with a soft smile. She shook herself, realizing that this conversation was getting entirely too personal. "Was there anything else, Harriet?"

"I'm not sure, Ma'am," Harriet said, looking down at her shoes. "It's probably not the right time…I'm not really sure there is a good time, but..."

"Harriet," Mac said firmly, repeating herself until the other woman looked up. "If there's not really a right time, just go ahead and say it. Putting off whatever you have to say probably isn't going to make it any easier."

Harriet took a deep breath. "Well, the morning after the crash, I helped Mic call all the guests and tell them…He didn't know that the wedding was off, so he was telling everyone that he'd let them know when the wedding was rescheduled. I didn't want to say anything different with him listening, so..." She trailed off, an apologetic look on her face.

"So you told the people you spoke to that the wedding was only postponed," Mac finished for her.

"Yeah," Harriet admitted reluctantly.

"It's okay, Harriet," Mac said, sighing. "It wasn't your place to tell Mic that the wedding was off, even if he would have believed you. So there are guests who don't know everything was cancelled?"

"You see," Harriet said, "I've been getting calls from a few of the people I spoke to two weeks ago. Don't worry, I told them that it has since been cancelled. That's not the problem."

"So what is the problem?" Mac asked in confusion.

"Some people are just unbelievably rude," Harriet said in a frustrated rush. "You've just cancelled a wedding and there's a lot to take care of, even if you didn't have to worry about an injured husband and all that. You'll get around to returning the gifts that were sent. It's just incredibly crass that with everything that's on your mind right now, people would ask when you'll get around to returning stuff."

If the situation hadn't been so upsetting, Mac might have laughed. Harriet sounded an awful lot like the mother she tried so hard not to emulate, or at least sounded like Mac's vision of her. "I have had a lot on my mind," Mac said, "and…I guess I've been trying not to think about it."

In fact, she hadn't thought about the gifts at all since the day Harm had been transferred to Bethesda. When she'd gone over to her apartment to pick up some of her things, she hadn't been in any condition to deal with it, so she'd just shoved the boxes of gifts off into a corner of the living room where they'd be out of Sergei's way.

Trish had offered to help deal with it, but given the tenuous state of the truce they'd reached during the week Harm was in the hospital, Mac had been reluctant to involve her mother-in-law in the mess that was her life. The gifts had ended up piled together, and once she'd walked out of her apartment, she'd managed to put it all out of her mind.

"I'm surprised Sergei hasn't asked what all the boxes in the living room are," Mac tried to joke, wincing internally at the look on Harriet's face. She sighed. "I guess I should set aside an evening soon to deal with it."

"Why don't I meet you at your apartment one night this week?" Harriet suggested. "We can order pizza or Chinese and spend a few hours getting everything boxed back up. We could pack everything in the back of my minivan, and I can take you to the post office the next afternoon after work to drop everything off."

"That would be fine, Harriet," Mac said, before she remembered. "Actually, I have access to an SUV now. We can pack everything up in that, and you could ride with me over to the post office after work the next day. I can drop you off at home after we're finished mailing everything, so Bud doesn't have to worry about finding a ride home."

"I guess you do have a larger car now," Harriet said with a light laugh. "It's kind of strange getting used to the whole "what's his is yours and what's yours is his" thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Mac said softly. After a moment, she shook herself out of her revere. She had work to do, which might help her not think about her personal situation. She'd actually managed to do that for stretches at a time that morning. It was easier to do so when she'd been contemplating how to keep her cool in the face of a defendant who couldn't tell the truth to save his life. "Give me a couple of days. Hmm, why don't I have Sergei spend Wednesday evening with Harm? That'll give us the apartment to ourselves."

"That'll work for me, Ma'am," Harriet said. "Bud's in Norfolk today and tomorrow, so neither day would have been good for me. Unless something happens, he should return Wednesday morning, so he can watch AJ."

"Why don't you bring AJ with you?" Mac suggested. Her eyes lit up at the thought of spending a few hours with her godson. "I'd love to spend some time with him."

"If you're sure he won't be in the way," Harriet said. Mac shook her head. "Okay, Ma'am. We'll see you Wednesday evening, say about 1800?"

"1800 is fine," Mac agreed. It would give her a chance to stop at Harm's apartment…their apartment and make sure Harm was set for the evening. She opened a folder in front of her. "Close the door on your way out, Lieutenant."

Harriet stood and briefly snapped to attention. "Yes, Ma'am," she said before turning and leaving the office.

Mac tried to read the report in front of her, but after reading over the first two paragraphs three times without comprehending a single word, she leaned back with a sigh.

When she and Harm had decided to get married, their plan had seemed so simple. Everything would just be between the two of them for the time being. She'd properly break things off with Mic, and Harm would do the same with Renee. Then they would then enjoy being married, keeping everything between them – except for telling the Admiral, which they were required to do by military regulations - until the dust from previous relationships had settled. It was never supposed to be like this, and now all their friends were getting swept up in the wake.

~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

MONDAY EVENING

11 JUNE 2001

HARM AND MAC'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

"I wasn't sure if you'd be up," Mac said as she entered the apartment. Harm set aside the book he was reading and gave her a wide smile. He was sitting on the couch, dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts, his injured leg propped up on the coffee table. She tossed her keys on the bookshelf and set her briefcase down while kicking off her shoes. Jingo trotted over, sitting obediently before her, waiting for the customary scratch behind the ears from his mistress.

"Hey, boy," she said, kneeling down to greet the dog. "Were you a good boy for Daddy today?" Jingo gave her a soft bark in answer, and then trotted off to curl up under the table. She smiled at the domesticity of the scene, reflecting how nice it was to come home from work to her family. The only thing that would make it better would be Harm returning home from work with her. She crossed the room, leaning over to brush her lips against Harm's forehead.

As she started to pull back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her down next to him on the couch. "I hope you have a better greeting for me than that," he teased, his breath hot and ticklish against her cheek. Mac turned towards him as his lips descended on hers. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she sank into the kiss with a moan deep in her throat.

Harm pulled her tighter against him, one hand sliding down to cup her hip for a moment before it slipped further down to hook behind her knee, pulling her leg over his. Mac's hands moved down his back, sneaking underneath his shirt, her fingertips dancing lightly over his lower back.

Somewhat breathlessly, they broke their kiss, resting their foreheads together. Mac's eyes closed as she struggled against the arousal building deep inside her as his fingers traced lazy circles over the back of her knee. They'd made love twice – three times counting their "wedding night" of heavy petting aboard the _Henry_ – and the cocky flyboy had already figured out which buttons of hers to push. "Too bad you're not up for more," she whispered huskily.

Harm chuckled softly. "I guess we'll have to call that a promise for later," he said, moving his hand from her knee and taking her hand in his.

"I look forward to it," she said, turning so she could lean back on the couch and opening her eyes to gaze at him. "So did you get any rest today?"

"Actually, *mother*," he retorted with an unrepentant grin, "I felt well enough to stay awake all day today. Gram and Sergei came over late this morning, and I played Dad's letter tapes for Sergei. I even got out of the apartment for a few minutes when they helped me walk Jingo."

Mac thought about saying something about his little excursion, but she figured his grandmother wouldn't have let him overextend himself. Anyway, judging by the expression on his face, even if she said anything, he wouldn't be the least bit sorry.

"How was that, sharing your dad with Sergei?" Mac asked, resting her head against his shoulder.

"It was…I don't know. I missed so much with my dad," he said sadly, "but at least I had most of six years with him. Sergei…"

"Sergei didn't even get that," she finished when his voice trailed off.

"Gram hadn't heard a lot of the tapes either," he continued in a quiet tone after a long moment. He shrugged, and Mac thought she could almost see the mental barriers going up. "Anyway, Gram suggested that we could all go up to the farm for the Fourth of July, said she had a lot more stuff that she could show him."

"You think you'll be up to going?" Mac asked. It was less than a month away, and Harm was getting better every day, but she knew that it was nearly a four hour drive to the Rabb farm. She thought that might be pushing it.

"Dr. Grayson said this morning that I should be fine to go to Annapolis for Skates' wedding," he reminded her. After he'd mentioned talking to Skates just before he left Portsmouth, Mac had insisted that he clear the trip with his doctor. Knowing him, he would just assume that he was going to be ready for a car trip by the end of the month. "If that goes well, I don't see why I wouldn't be up to going to Pennsylvania the following weekend, and it shouldn't be too much longer after that before I'm cleared to return to work."

"Except that Beallsville is a lot further away from here than Annapolis," she pointed out.

"I'm sure I'll be fine by then," he said dismissively.

"But you will check with the doctor, right?" she asked.

"Yes, I will check with her," he confirmed with a grin. "Hey, you okay?"

Mac craned her head to meet his gaze. "Fine," she said simply. "It was just a long day at work."

"Turn around," he said, motioning for her to turn away from him. A puzzled look on her face, she did as he bade, sighing as his hands fastened on her shoulders, his fingers kneading the tense muscles. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I went down to Quantico with Mattoni just after I got to work," she said, disgust creeping into her tone. "The Admiral handed me prosecution of a lance corporal who showed poor judgment in getting busted with a half-smoked joint in his car by the MPs and even worse in lying about it."

"I'm sure you'll make sure he knows what a disgrace to the uniform he is," he said confidently. "So were you down at Quantico all day?"

"Nope," she replied with a groan as he pressed against a knot next to her left shoulder. "Mattoni, um, had to return here for something else, so we were back by 1400. I spent the rest of my day trying to get my e-mail into some semblance of order."

"And?" he asked.

Mac didn't reply for a moment, moaning softly as his hands worked on easing her tension. "I've missed your shoulder rubs after being hunched over case files during working dinners," she murmured.

"I guess we haven't done that as much as we used to," Harm commented, startling Mac, who hadn't even realized she'd said that out loud. "Hey, relax. You're so tense."

Mac took a couple of slow, deep breaths, trying to relax, but there was so much going through her mind – the dishonest lance corporal from Quantico, the mishap investigation, Mic, Renee, the distance that had grown between Harm and her during the last two years, which was just now being bridged.

Harm's hands stilled just below her shoulder blades. "Mac?" he asked softly. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"It's just been a long day," she repeated.

"Mac," Harm said insistently, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. "Tell me what's wrong. Let me help."

Mac reluctantly turned around, blowing out an exasperated breath. She didn't want to lay all this on him right now. Didn't he deserve a little bit more time without stressing over the mishap investigation which was beyond his control? She wished for a moment that she were better at hiding her feelings from him, but after everything they'd been through together, he knew her too well. She understood him as well and realized that he wasn't going to let this go. "Commander Fleming came to headquarters today," she began, looking down at her hands in her lap. The light from the lamp on the end table glinted off her wedding ring, mesmerizing her.

"Mac?"

She took a deep breath and continued, "He found out that I was supposed to marry Mic the same day that you and I got married," she explained reluctantly, her head bowed. "After getting a statement from Mic, Commander Fleming came to interview everyone who was at the wedding rehearsal and dinner the night before."

"To find out if I had a reason to push beyond safety in order to fly off the carrier that night," he concluded. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head up, his reassuring gaze meeting hers. "I guess it makes sense that they'd ask about that, given everything that's happened, but several people knew that the wedding was off before I left the carrier. You told me when I called, and I seem to recall…weren't Harriet and Chloe in your apartment when I called? Did you tell them?"

"Yes," Mac replied, nodding, her words coming in a rush as she tried to assure him that she wasn't concerned about the new development, "and Harriet told me that she told Bud and that the Admiral had figured it out on his own. I told Sturgis that I called and left messages for Mic on his home answering machine and his cell phone. Of course, I didn't tell him in the message that it was off, but…"

"Hey, slow down," Harm said, pulling her against him. She rested her head against his chest as his hands slowly moved up and down her back in a soothing motion. "After you'd talked to Mic in Norfolk, I thought – or I guess I'd hoped – that he would be out of our lives now, but I guess we'll have to put up with him a little while longer. It's okay. I suppose Commander Fleming was going to find out about the wedding, but Mic can't hurt us. Enough people know what happened. It won't make a difference."

Mac wanted to believe him, but she couldn't explain to him why it was so hard to do that. Harm and Mic had already fought over her once, even though everyone involved had pretended otherwise. Harm was in no condition for round two when he found out what Mic had done. With luck, Fleming would conclude there was nothing to Mic's accusations and that would be the end of it. "I think we need to vow that we're not going to talk about Mic or the investigation any more tonight," she suggested firmly. She extracted herself from his warm embrace and stood. "Let me get out of this uniform, feed Jingo, and we can decide what we're going to do for the rest of the evening."

"I already fed Jingo," he said as she paused by Jingo's bowls, set up at the end of the kitchen island. "I gave him some food about half an hour ago, around the time that Mom called."

"Your mom called?" she asked as she continued on into the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse along the way. "What did she want?"

"She and Frank haven't been by today," he replied as she stripped out of her uniform and hung it neatly in the closet. "Frank had a meeting with Bobbi while Mom checked out a local artist that she's been trying to snag for her gallery."

"Bobbi?" she asked, her voice muffled slightly as she bent down to rummage through a drawer looking for something to wear. "Are you talking about Bobbi Latham?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Detroit is in Michigan – where Daimler-Chrysler's U.S. headquarters is - and Frank is the senior vice president for their West Coast operations."

"Right," Mac said as she pulled on a t-shirt and shorts, the only difference between what she and Harm were wearing being that his t-shirt had 'Navy' emblazoned across the front while hers said 'Marines'. "So what did she want?"

"She and Frank found this Italian place next to their hotel that she's raving about," he explained. "The place does takeout, and she thought that with you starting back to work today, you might not be up to fixing dinner, so they'll be by as soon as they can pick up the food, Gram and Sergei."

"Oh," Mac replied, masking her disappointment. She adored Gram and Sergei, got along wonderfully with Frank, and was making strides in her relationship with Trish, but after the day she'd had, it would have been nice to spend a quiet evening alone with her husband. The six of them had spent part of every day together ever since Harm had been released from the hospital, and except for one evening when Harm had suffered from a blinding headache, they'd had dinner together every night, usually at Trish's suggestion.

Every time she started counting the days until Harm's family would depart, she had to stop herself. It wasn't fair to her in-laws. If they were a bit overprotective of Harm right now, just as she was, they perhaps had more reason to be. They remembered Harm's first crash, probably had vivid memories of how they'd nearly lost him. If they wanted to be as close to him as possible right now, it was perfectly understandable. She wanted the same thing.

"That sounds good," she said as she rejoined him on the couch. "About what time did your mom think they might get here?"

Harm glanced at his watch. "She estimated about an hour," he said, "and she called just over half an hour ago." He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. As he drew back, he grinned suggestively. "Got any ideas of what we can do to pass the time?"

"Hmm," she murmured as he tangled his fingers in her hair, gently pulling her against him as he started to tease with his tongue a particularly sensitive spot just below her right ear. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"I can control myself if you can," he whispered seductively against her throat, chuckling as she shivered in his arms, her body instinctively moving closer to his, seeking out his welcoming heat.

"That sounds like a challenge," she countered, gripping his arm as his hand found its way under her shirt. "Except that Navy isn't playing fair."

He pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling his legs. "Maybe the Marines aren't up to the challenge," he whispered against her skin.

"We can take, um, anything the Navy can dish out," she murmured.

* * *

Author's note - if you want to know how this scene ends, you need to go to my website ;) If you click on my name at the top of the page, there will be a link to my website on my author's page.


	6. Chapter 6

WEDNESDAY EVENING

13 JUNE 2001

MAC'S APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

"Aun' Mac!"

As Mac locked the SUV, she heard her godson's exuberant voice call out to her. Looking down the street, she saw Harriet and AJ coming toward her, AJ squirming in his mother's arms, reaching towards his godmother.

As they reached her, Mac plucked AJ out of Harriet's arms, holding him tight as he wrapped his little arms around her neck, threatening to cut off her air supply in his excitement. "Hiya, AJ," she gasped as she struggled to loosen his grip. She managed to pull one arm away, wrapping his small hand in hers to prevent him from grabbing onto her neck again. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, she thought how simple this was, how peaceful. Would that she could find that feeling in the rest of her life.

"You okay, Mac?" Harriet asked, studying Mac critically.

"Oh, we're fine," Mac said, settling AJ on her hip. "It's hardly the first time I've nearly been choked by him, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

Harriet started to say something, probably to protest that wasn't what she meant, but at the slight shake of Mac's head, the other woman sighed, smiling slightly.

Mac relaxed a little as she realized that Harriet wasn't going to push, not yet anyway. There was no telling, however, how long that was going to last. "Shall we go inside?" she suggested, nodding towards her building a couple hundred feet up the street.

As they walked, they talked about inconsequential matters – the mini heat wave that had enveloped the city the last few days, AJ's latest finger painting masterpiece from day care, Sturgis' first encounter in court with Loren.

After the tension between Sturgis and her the last couple of days, a part of Mac had privately enjoyed his discomfiture when Loren had tried to sandbag him in court during a case he'd taken over for Harm. Mac, as part of her duties as chief of staff, had been in court this morning as an observer. After the previous day, it was darkly pleasant to see some of what he'd dished out to her thrown back at him.

Between her trip to Quantico and Sturgis having sat in on Fleming's interviews with the guests from the rehearsal, Mac had managed to avoid him for the rest of Monday after their confrontation that morning. The next day, he'd cornered her after lunch, somehow knowing that she didn't have anything too pressing on her plate and had insisted on a full interview.

Objectively, she had to admire the fact that he'd been very prepared to question her. He'd asked every question she'd thought he would and a few she'd been hoping he wouldn't. After the interview, she'd felt raw and exposed. She'd answered every question truthfully, unwilling to jeopardize Harm's case any more than it already had been, but some of what she'd had to tell Sturgis were things she hadn't had a chance – or been able – to tell Harm yet. She hated that feeling of vulnerability, even if she knew intellectually that it was a necessary evil.

As they entered her apartment, Mac set AJ on his feet. He immediately began toddling around the apartment, peeking around furniture and corners. "Jingo," he called, glancing into the bedroom. "Jingo."

"Jingo's not here, AJ," Harriet said. She glanced at Mac with a shrug. "Ever since I told him we were coming to see you, he's been babbling about Jingo. I didn't even think that Jingo would probably be at Harm's apartment since you live over there now."

Mac knelt down as AJ turned back to them, a confused look on his face. "Where Jingo?" he asked.

"Jingo's with Uncle Harm," Mac said.

AJ came back over, throwing himself at Mac. Looking up at her, he said in all seriousness, "Uncle Harm has owie."

"Yeah, Uncle Harm has an owie," Mac concurred sadly. She glanced at Harriet, not sure what else to say. She didn't know how much Bud and Harriet would've told their son about what had happened to his godfather – or how much AJ might've understood.

"Honey, why don't you sit on the couch and look at your book?" Harriet suggested, pulling a pop-up book out of his diaper bag and holding it out to him. Obediently, he took the offered book and hoisted himself up onto the couch with a little boost from Mac.

"Bud and I didn't know what to tell him," Harriet said quietly as they moved to the other side of the room where Mac had the gifts stacked. "Mac, you should have seen him that night we were waiting for word on Harm. We were all at JAG, and at one point, AJ walked over to Harm's office and kept asking where he was. Mr. Burnett told me later that AJ even had Chloe in tears with his questions."

"Then when we saw Harm at the hospital on Memorial Day," she continued, "we made the mistake of talking about having seen him where AJ could hear us. He threw a little tantrum when we tried to explain why he couldn't see his godfather."

"I guess kids know more than we realize about what goes on around them," Mac said just as softly, pulling over a small box of packing tape and markers that she'd dropped off the day before.

"We tried to tell him that Harm had an owie, and that the doctor was trying to make him better," Harriet continued, glancing at her son. AJ had become engrossed in his book, babbling to himself as he turned pages and ignoring the two women. "I think the 'owie' part was the only thing that stuck with him."

"I guess it'd be hard for him to really understand what's happened," Mac replied, talking about more than a two-year-old's comprehension of Harm's injuries. Brushing the thought aside, she grabbed a collapsed box from the pile leaning against the wall – also brought over the previous day – and began assembling it.

"Actually," Harriet said, picking up her own box and grabbing a roll of tape, "I was thinking about asking you and Harm over to dinner soon – whenever he's up to it, of course. I'm sure Harm would like to go someplace besides Bethesda, and I think it would make AJ feel better if he could see Harm for himself."

"We'll see," Mac said non-committally. "I know he's starting to get a little stir-crazy sitting at home, even with his family dropping by to keep him company, but it might be too soon. Yesterday, he'd convinced his parents that he felt fine and that they should all go out to lunch. When I got home from work, he was in bed with a slight fever. Trish was getting on him for trying to do too much."

Mac left out the fact that she and Trish had nearly gotten into an argument over the incident. She'd pointed out to her mother-in-law that she should've known Harm well enough to know that he'd try to become active before he was ready, with Trish countering that Harm knew his own limits and she respected that. Mac had been about to argue that that assertion didn't seem to fit with the way that Trish had been hovering, when Frank had stepped in, suggesting that both women were operating on next to no sleep and that both had Harm's best interests at heart.

Knowing that Harm could probably hear every word they'd said, the women had agreed with Frank that they were both tired and worried about Harm, but it had been an uneasy truce. Conversation had been strained between Trish and Mac until the Burnetts had left, saying that Harm wasn't up to dinner with the family.

Mac had masked her relief at their departure, although it'd been harder to hide her concern that Harm wasn't feeling well. That had led to a little bit of tension between the two of them, Harm snapping at her, and then just as quickly apologizing, saying tiredly that he was sorry for worrying her. She'd graciously accepted his contrition and tried to put it from her mind, only to be awoken during the night by a nightmare, the details of which were shrouded in mist. She just knew that it had something to do with everything that'd been left unsaid that evening, hovering on the tip of everyone's tongues.

"Shall we get started?" Mac suggested, forcing the memory from her mind and trying to concentrate on the unpleasant task before her. "Last night, while Harm was resting, I made a list of everyone who'd sent gifts with their addresses. There's a few that I don't have addresses for, mostly Mic's friends and relatives from Australia, and the boxes the gifts arrived in had already been tossed out. I thought we could go ahead and box those up and write who they're going to on the outside. I'll have to see about Mic taking care of those."

Harriet began assembling her own box, biting on her lower lip nervously. "What is it, Harriet?" Mac asked after a long moment, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"I was just wondering if you'd spoken to him since…" she began hesitantly.

"Since Norfolk or since I found out he'd spoken to Commander Fleming?" Mac finished. Before Harriet could reply, she continued, "The last time I spoke to him was when we had breakfast that morning at IHOP. He hasn't tried to contact me since then."

"I guess it's hard for him," Harriet said.

"Yeah," Mac murmured distractedly, "to come so close…"

Sensing that Harriet was about to say something, Mac gestured towards some boxes still on the floor that she and Mic had never gotten around to unpacking. Gifts, mostly those coming from Australia, had still been arriving right up until the day before the aborted wedding, so Mic and Mac had originally decided to wait until they returned from their honeymoon before opening anything. Some of the earlier arriving gifts had been taken out of their shipping cartons already, their bright wrappings of white bells and red roses mocking Mac with their hint of promises broken. "If you want to start writing 'Return to Sender' on those," she suggested, "I'll start packing these others back into boxes."

~*~*~*~

A few hours later, after breaks for dinner and to take care of a diaper change for AJ, the gifts were divided into three piles. The largest pile of boxes was addressed and ready to be taken to the post office. A second, smaller pile of gifts was unboxed, having come from co-workers at JAG. Mac was planning to discreetly take those to work to return to the givers. The last group was boxed and had names on them with no addresses. All of those had come from Australia, and Mac would leave it up to Mic to take care of them, resolving to talk to him about it when she returned her engagement ring. She just wasn't sure yet when that would be. She knew she had to deal with it, but couldn't bring herself to face him again just yet.

"I guess that's everything," Mac remarked. She glanced at the couch, where AJ had fallen asleep shortly after his diaper had change. When she'd suggested Harriet bring AJ with her, Mac hadn't considered that someone would need to watch him while the gifts were carried out. "I need to pack up a few things to take over to Harm's, and then I'll start carrying this stuff down to the SUV."

"You haven't taken all your stuff over there yet?" Harriet asked, curiosity apparent in her voice.

"We've got limited space," Mac explained, gathering up a few books. "Harm's cleared some space for me, but it's not nearly enough for all my things, so I've been trying to limit what I take over there."

"Have you thought about getting a new place together?"

"The topic has come up," Mac replied. "Harm mentioned it when we were clearing out some space in the closet for me, but with him still recovering, it's not really a good time right now to deal with the hassle. Maybe after he returns to work, we'll have a chance to look for a place."

Getting a place of their own was high on her list of things to do once Harm was well enough. When they'd been making space for her things, Mac had stumbled across some of Renee's stuff. Under different circumstances, the look on Harm's face might have been amusing, almost as if he'd been wondering how some of that stuff had gotten there. They'd boxed the stuff up, but Harm hadn't been able to contact Renee to have her come pick it up. The box sat near the door, a visible reminder of the mess their lives had become in the last few weeks.

Glancing around, Mac realized there were probably some things of Mic's lying around her place. It brought home for her the need to have a place that was theirs, not hers or his, places that came with the attendant ghosts of past lovers. It seemed a little silly in light of everything else, but one of the first things she'd done her first day in Harm's apartment had been to change the sheets on the bed, as if by doing so she could banish the memory of the other woman who'd shared his bed less than two weeks earlier. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she murmured.

"Like what, Mac?" Harriet asked, startling Mac. She hadn't realized she'd said that out loud.

"So…complicated," she admitted with a heavy sigh. She looked away, uncomfortable at being like this, even with Harriet, who was her best friend after Harm.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harriet offered. "Sometimes it helps just to have someone else listen."

"I don't know," Mac said reluctantly, hoping Harriet would take the hint.

"Okay," Harriet agreed. "If you ever want to talk…Anyway, if you want to keep an eye on AJ for a few moments while you gather up some of your stuff, I'll start taking these boxes down to the SUV"

Mac turned back around, her façade utterly calm. "Sure," she agreed, crossing to her desk where she'd tossed her purse earlier. She pulled out her keys and held them out to Harriet. "The remote is for the SUV. Thanks, Harriet."

Harriet smiled as she took the keys. "You're welcome," she replied.

Closing the door behind Harriet, Mac rested her head against it with a sigh. She looked over at the couch to find AJ awake, staring at her with large blue eyes. Smiling sadly, she went and picked him up, her eyes brimming with tears. AJ reached out a pudgy hand, pressing it to her cheek. It was so easy at that age, she realized, to be blithely unaware that actions had consequences.


	7. Chapter 7

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

14 JUNE 2001

BASE CHAPEL

ANACOSTIA NAVAL ANNEX

WASHINGTON D.C.

As soon as he walked into the sanctuary, Mic nearly turned around and walked back out. At the head of the long aisle, a couple was standing in front of a chaplain, holding hands and laughing about something. Not quite three weeks earlier, he had been the one standing at the altar, rehearsing his own wedding. Instead of laughing, he and Sarah had argued about whether or not to have their own custom vows. Had it been a sign? Was there a deeper meaning behind her resistance, other than a reluctance to discuss very personal feelings in public?

He shook his head, as if he could banish the thought from his mind by doing so. She had agreed to marry him, hadn't she? They would have married if Rabb hadn't crashed. He was sure of it, trying not to think about that Wednesday in Norfolk before the crash. In spite of that, Sarah had gone through with the rehearsal, had still intended to marry him - right up until Rabb had swooped in with his impromptu marriage proposal while practically on his death bed. She'd been devastated at what had happened, and Rabb had taken advantage of that. It was as simple as that.

With a heavy heart, he dropped into a pew at the back of the church, plucking a missal out of the pocket in front of him and idly flipping through it. He didn't want to be here, but his curiosity had been piqued when Father Hayes left him a message, asking him about rescheduling the wedding.

He'd assumed that since it had been Mac's idea to call off the wedding, she'd taken care of canceling everything. Wondering if there was a reason why she hadn't taken care of this detail, he'd decided to stop by the chapel on his way home.

Mic started when Father Hayes sat beside him, unaware of the other man's approach. "Hello, Mic," Hayes said warmly. "How are you and Sarah doing?"

"I'm fine," Mic said automatically, as if giving an answer he'd rehearsed until he'd gotten it perfect. He'd had plenty of practice during the past two weeks. Several of his clients, who'd known that he was supposed to be getting married, had been surprised after he'd called them in to discuss their cases that he'd returned to work earlier than they'd originally been told. Naturally, there'd been questions, and then commiseration when he'd replied with a simple 'We're working some things out.'

It was nice that a few people, unaware of the true dynamics of the situation, had offered their sympathies. Outside of Renee, who understood what he was going through in a way that no one else could, he'd found little of that elsewhere. Most of the people that he knew in Washington, he knew through JAG.

The couple of times he'd had to venture into JAG headquarters in the past week because of cases, conversations had been kept brief and to the point. If it wasn't directly related to the particular case being discussed, not a word was said. Well, Singer had offered some half-baked words of empathy, but anyone who'd been around her for any length of time knew that compassion wasn't her strong suit. Actually, he'd been angry on Sarah's behalf, wondering if Singer was calculating how to take advantage of the situation.

Eventually, he'd started answering any and all inquiries into his state of mind with a simple and firm 'I'm fine.' He had to be fine – otherwise, he would go crazy if he allowed himself a moment to stop and really think about everything that had happened.

"And Sarah?" Hayes pressed. "I've been expecting to hear from the two of you." Mic sighed inwardly. He'd gotten so used to giving his stock reply that he hadn't even paid attention to the fact that the priest had asked about Sarah as well. That was natural, of course. Hayes had been slated to officiate at their wedding, and judging from the fact that he'd asked about her, he apparently didn't know the wedding was off. Mic wasn't sure what to think about that.

"She's fine, I suppose," he replied a bit hesitantly. That certainly seemed to be true, as far as he'd been able to tell. He'd caught a glimpse of her the previous morning when he'd gone to JAG to pick up some papers he'd requested through discovery for one of his clients. As he'd walked through the hall outside the bullpen, he'd seen her in her office, conferring with a black man wearing JAG insignia and commander's stripes that he didn't recognize. To him, she'd seemed normal, as if her life was no different now than it had been a month ago, when she'd been preparing to spend the rest of her life with him.

He'd tried to spend a moment studying her, hoping to catch some hint that all was not well, that her life wasn't just going on as if he'd never been a part of it. As Carolyn Imes had prattled on about the details of a plea deal he'd proposed for one of his client, he'd watched the scene in Sarah's office, quickly glancing away after she'd raised her left hand to brush back her hair, the light glinting off the ring on her finger, a ring that wasn't his. He'd forced his attention back to Carolyn, trying to ignore the bands tightening around his heart.

"Did something happen?" Hayes asked.

Mic sighed, knowing that there was no way he could avoid this topic, not here. A part of him wanted to curse Sarah for putting him in this position. She'd called the damned thing off; shouldn't she have taken care of making sure that the priest had been informed? "We're not getting married," he replied quietly. "I would have thought Sarah would have let you know."

"I've been TAD the last two weeks," Hayes explained. "I left the morning after you were to have gotten married. When I got back and didn't see a message about your wanting to reschedule the wedding, I thought I'd better call and make sure everything was okay. I tried calling Sarah's place, but I think that I dialed the wrong number since someone with a Russian accent answered the phone."

Mic was confused for a moment before remembering that Sarah had mentioned some wrangling had gotten Rabb's brother released from the prison camp in Chechnya. That must have been who'd answered the phone, which meant that Sarah was probably at Rabb's apartment. "No," he said, "I don't think you have the wrong number. That was probably her brother-in-law answering the phone."

"Her brother-in-law?" Hayes asked with confusion evident in his voice. "I thought that Sarah was an only child."

"She is," Mic replied. He had to take a calming breath before he was able to continue. "Her husband has a brother who is Russian. I assume that's who answered the phone." He shrugged at the look of shock on the priest's face. "Yeah, mate, Sarah's married and not to me. You know how I told you a friend of hers had crashed an F-14 the night before the wedding? Sarah rushed off to Norfolk to be with him and ended up married to the bast…" He paused, attempting to gather himself together.

"I see," the priest said carefully.

"She was upset, of course, that her best friend…" Mic nearly choked on the words, but took another deep breath and continued, "He nearly died, and I guess he decided it was time to confess his undying love to her, to take advantage of her state of mind given everything that had happened."

"Is that what you think?" Hayes asked, his tone cautious. "That he took advantage?"

"Of course," Mic replied angrily. "He knew that she was vulnerable because of what had happened. Everyone knew that he was in love with her, but she chose to marry me. He probably figured this was a good way to get her."

"I doubt that anyone would deliberately crash a multi-million dollar aircraft," the priest pointed out.

"No," Mic said quickly, "of course not. Even Rabb is not that crazy, although the man has pulled some things…But how can anyone argue that he took advantage of the situation after the crash?"

"Do you mind if we back up a moment?" Hayes asked. Reluctantly, Mic nodded. "You said Sarah rushed off to Norfolk. Why? That would seem to most people to be an extreme reaction, even if he is her best friend as you said. Are you sure that is all it was? Her reaction does seem to indicate perhaps there were some feelings for this other man, more than friendship…"

"She agreed to marry me," Mic interrupted, spitting his words out through clenched teeth. He didn't want the situation explained to him or rationalized. He wanted someone to agree with him. Wasn't he the wronged party in all this? "Why would she do that if she didn't love me?"

"I cannot tell you what Sarah was thinking," Hayes said in a conciliatory tone. "Have you spoken to her since all this happened?"

"We had breakfast down in Norfolk on Memorial Day."

Hayes nodded thoughtfully. "Did she offer any kind of explanation?"

"How could she explain such an about face," Mic replied evasively, "after all we've been to each other over the last couple of years?"

"What did she say exactly?" Hayes pressed.

"She said she going to stay married to him," Mic admitted reluctantly, "but I'm not convinced that it is even a valid marriage, considering how it came about. And what about all this time that we've been together? Does that suddenly mean nothing?"

"No, of course not, but the end of a relationship is hard, no matter how it came about," Hayes said, "especially when you've invested so much of yourself into it." He clasped his hands together, resting his chin on top, as if praying for guidance. "Let me ask you something, leaving aside the validity of the marriage for a moment, which I obviously cannot speak to without more information. Are you sure that there is nothing in the past that might explain why she turned to him so suddenly? Are you sure that it really was a sudden decision on her part, on both their parts?"

Mic was silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point at the front of the church. It was sudden, wasn't it? Everything had been fine until the engagement party. What exactly had she and Rabb talked about, all that time on the porch? Had he tried to convince her then that she should go to him? What about that night in Norfolk? Had Rabb gotten her away from Washington for a reason, a last ditch effort to win her before the wedding?

The man was charming, he reluctantly admitted. Had he, seeing his chance about to slip away, turned on the charm full blast to seduce her? What other explanation could there possibly be? He'd heard the comments about "dress whites and gold wings." There was a similar saying in his Navy as well. Could even as strong a woman as Sarah Mackenzie eventually have been worn down enough to forsake what he'd offered up to her on a silver platter?

_You didn't hear Mac tell Harm's mother that she had no intention of marrying you yesterday, even before she up and decided to marry Harm._

Unbidden, Renee's angry voice came to his mind. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. Renee had been beyond angry – she had admitted as much that day in the bar. Not to mention the fact that Sarah couldn't exactly tell Rabb's mother that she'd simply felt sorry for him and that was the reason that she had married him.

Her affair with John Farrow had been different as well. Although she had technically been married at the time, she and Chris Ragle had long been separated. Had she really considered what she'd done adultery or had she considered herself to be a free agent? Had it really been a betrayal of her marriage vows? She obviously had not thought it so, considering her later relationship with Dalton Lowne.

Given that, her fling with Rabb seemed to be an aberration, seemed out of character. The woman he loved, to whom he wanted to give everything he had to give for the rest of her life, couldn't have simply betrayed him like that. There had to be more to the story. What in bloody hell had Rabb done, what had he said, that had convinced her to throw it all away?

Gradually, he became aware of the priest saying his name, and he blinked, forcing himself to back to the present conversation. He turned, focusing his attention on the man next to him. "Yes, Father?"

"Are you sure this wasn't her decision?"

"He must have done something, said something," Mic said softly, shaking his head. "Nothing else makes sense to me. It just does not seem like Sarah, not like the woman I love. She's loved me all this time, worn my ring…"

He turned suddenly to face the priest full on, his expression hopeful. "She still has the ring," he said. "She said she was going to return it when she got back to Washington, but it was almost two weeks ago that she came back."

"But Mic," Hayes said, holding up his hand, "let me play devil's advocate here for a moment. If her husband…" He paused at Mic's angry glare at the word, but continued, "…if he was really was that bad off, then perhaps she has simply been caught up in that. It may be nothing more than the fact that dealing with the ring is the furthest thing from her mind right now."

"What if it's not?" Mic persisted.

"You need to know for sure," Hayes counseled. "You do need to resolve the issues between you, one way or the other. It would be best, not only for your piece of mind, but hers as well. Neither of you can move on with your lives with this still hanging over your heads."

"I cannot move on without her," Mic said quietly. "She's my entire world."

Hayes placed a comforting hand on Mic's arm. "That's a very heavy burden," he replied, just as quietly. "But what if she has moved on? You'll need to learn to move on, too."

Mic pulled away, standing. "Look, Father," he said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and jingling them in his hand, "you have been a help. I do know what I need to do now."

"And what is that?"

"I think that you're right," Mic said. "Sarah and I need to resolve things so that we can move on with our lives together."

* * *

As Mic turned and started to walk away, Hayes shook his head sadly, his gaze focused on the cross hanging behind the altar. "Lord, I tried," he prayed. He couldn't think of what else he could have said. There was a chance that Mic was correct, but he was afraid that Mic had invested too much of himself into this relationship and was as yet unable to accept the fact that it was over.

Suddenly, he remembered that Friday evening, the night of the rehearsal. Mic and Sarah had argued briefly. Sarah has simply wanted to recite the traditional wedding vows which generations of brides before her had uttered, but Mic had pressed for custom vows. Sarah had been angry at his insistence. Why had that been?

True, all couples experienced varying amounts of stress before their weddings. He'd certainly seen enough of that in his sixteen years as a Navy chaplain as celebrant at hundreds of weddings. What if it hadn't been simply stress? Had Sarah's reticence and anger been something else, a sign of cracks in the foundation of their relationship? Was Mic simply seeing what he wanted to see?

* * *

To be continued....

Author's note - this brings us up to what is currently posted on my website. From now on, as I post there, I'll post here as well. It will be a week or two before I post the next part, however. I'm in grad school and was crazy enough to sign up for a couple of summer courses and have a major project due next weekend in marketing. After that, I'll have time to work on DOALS again (my second class, one of my electives, is in my field, so it will be a cakewalk for me).


	8. Chapter 8

FRIDAY AFTERNOON  
15 JUNE 2001  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm sat on the couch, staring out the window as he idly scratched Jingo behind his ears. After almost two weeks at home, he was starting to go stir-crazy, and he didn't even have his family to keep him company – or to hover over him. That morning, his parents had left to drive his grandmother back to Pennsylvania, where they were planning to fly out from on Saturday to go back to their lives in La Jolla. Sergei had gone with them – at Harm's insistence – so that he could spend some time with his grandmother and get to know her better. His mother had been reluctant to leave, but after spending most of the previous day with his family, he had managed to convince her that he was well enough for them to go home.

After seeing Mac off to work and saying goodbye to his family, Harm had found himself at loose ends. Determined that he was not going to waste away any more days sleeping, he'd struggled to keep himself occupied without his family to keep him company. He'd walked Jingo to Stanton Park, the furthest away he'd been from home by himself since he'd been released from the hospital. Once at the park, his knee had been throbbing, so he had rested on a bench until he felt that he could walk around without feeling that he was being stabbed in the knee. For a while, Jingo had been content to lie quietly beside the bench, but soon was pawing at Harm, wanting to play.

After letting Jingo run loose for a while, Harm decided to return home. Jingo had promptly stretched out next to the bedroom steps and gone to sleep, having worn himself out with his exertions. Harm's knee was bothering him again and when he checked it, it was definitely swelling, so he'd propped his leg up on the coffee table with a bag of frozen vegetables on his knee.

While icing his knee, Harm drew out some ideas he had for expanding the apartment to make more room for Mac. She hadn't been able to bring over more than a few things from her apartment and what little closet space his apartment had was now overflowing, even with only part of Mac's wardrobe having been brought over.

After drawing his initial idea to block off the end of the hallway and knock out the wall behind the closet to make a larger closet, it had occurred to him that perhaps they could use a home office. His desk was fine for his own use, but Mac would probably like to have her own, especially once he was back at work and they had their own cases to work on. They could bring over the desk from her apartment, but after playing around with the layout of the furniture on paper, Harm realized that it would be a too tight a squeeze.

The next few drawings were various ideas he had for expanding the entire apartment into the space across the hall. Slightly smaller than his apartment, it was currently a sparsely filled storage room-slash-laundry room. By the time he'd finished eating the salad he'd thrown together for lunch, he had what he thought was a pretty good design that he would show to Mac when she got home from work. Space would be blocked off at each end of the hall so that he could knock down some walls into the other room. When finished, the apartment would form a square around a hallway just large enough for the door into the apartment and the elevator. They would then have room for an office, storage and even space for another room fulfilling a certain promise in three years.

If Mac agreed, he'd get started as soon as possible since he wouldn't have much time once he was cleared to return to work. It would keep him busy in the meantime and be good exercise to regain his strength. And he was sure Mac would not be averse to picking up some tools to help out. It would make the apartment even more *theirs* and would make the work go faster once they were both working and unable to devote much time to renovations.

_What do you call this décor?_

_ Priority. Finishing my apartment is low on the list._

Harm chuckled at the memory. He never would have thought on the day they'd met that someday he'd be planning how to make his apartment theirs. Hell, remembering the guarded and suspicious way she'd regarded him at the beginning, he wouldn't have imagined then that she'd soon become his best friend, let alone the woman he was now planning to spend his life with.

After he'd finished designing a new apartment, Harm had found himself at loose ends. A quick glance at the bookshelf had turned up a brand new copy of _John Adams_. He vaguely remembered buying the book before he had left for Norfolk and his quals, but judging from the lack of a bookmark, it didn't appear he'd had a chance to start reading it yet.

He started reading, but put the book down again after only getting through one chapter. He just couldn't make himself concentrate. At least when he was sleeping, the day seemed to go by faster, but staying up all day while struggling to find things to do only made the day drag on. Fortunately, Mac would be getting off work soon. Maybe he could convince her to go out to dinner.

With a sigh, he picked up the book again and read another chapter before giving up and setting the book aside. He was going to go crazy if this went on much longer. Staring out the window, he watched several cars go by on the street below. He would have to talk to Dr. Grayson at his next appointment about how long before he would be cleared to drive around town. At least then he would be able to get further away from the apartment during the day than he was capable of walking at present.

Harm was startled out of his musings when he felt Jingo butting his head against his hand. "Time to go out again, boy?" he asked as he gathered his drawings. Most of the day had gone by and he hadn't felt the urge to crawl back into bed once. It was a baby step, but his neurologist would tell him baby steps were important to his recovery.

Quickly, he scrawled out a note for Mac, just in case she got home before he returned from walking Jingo. He left the note in the bedroom on Mac's side of the bed, where he was sure she would see it when she changed out of her uniform. He grabbed his cell phone and keys and stuffed them in the pockets of his shorts.

"Coming, Jingo," he said as Jingo impatiently scratched at the wall where his leash hung. Harm grabbed the leash and snapped it onto Jingo's collar. He opened the door, stopping short as he nearly ran into Mic standing on the other side of the door, his hand poised to knock.


	9. Chapter 9

FRIDAY AFTERNOON  
15 JUNE 2001  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

"Bloody hell, Rabb," Mic blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind. "You look like hell."

"Mic," Harm said, obviously surprised. If he'd had to make a list of people least like to show up out of the blue at his home, Mic would have been at the top of the list. He wasn't even aware that Mic knew where he lived. It wasn't like they had socialized outside of events involving the entire JAG staff, except for that one evening involving the double-date from Hell that Harm would rather forget had happened.

Suddenly, confronted with the sight of an obviously still-recovering Harm, Mic found himself questioning the wisdom of coming over here. Maybe he should have called Sarah and asked to meet her somewhere. He didn't like Rabb – never had – but he hardly looked like he was in any condition to deal with this right at the moment. Mic could barely admit it to himself, but he felt sorry for the man.

He'd known the accident was bad, but that knowledge had not prepared him for the reality of seeing Harm for the first time since before the crash. He'd never seen Harm look so….vulnerable. His hair had barely begun to grow back, making him look like a Marine recruit who'd had a little too much cut off on his last trip to the barber and Mic could make out the beginnings of what was obviously a still healing surgical scar on the side of his head. His normally healthy complexion was that of someone just getting over a long illness. The man in front of him hardly fit the image of the larger-than-life reputation Rabb enjoyed.

"Hey, Jingo," Mic said, noticing the dog at Harm's side. Recognizing a friendly face, Jingo rubbed his head against Mic's leg in greeting. Mic petted Jingo's head, keeping his gaze on a wary Harm. "I'm here to see Sarah."

"Mac's not home yet," Harm replied, stating the obvious. Mic had realized as soon as he'd seen Jingo on the leash that she couldn't be home. He doubted that she would let Harm walk the dog in his condition if she was around to do it.

He also noted Harm's use of Sarah's nickname. Mac was Harm's buddy, his best friend – as loath as Mic was to admit that last fact. He couldn't imagine calling his wife, the woman he loved, by anything but her beautiful first name. Mic hadn't thought of her as 'Mac' in a long time, and he was surprised that Harm did.

"Not yet," Mic said. "I called JAG and they said she had already left for the day." He hadn't noticed her Corvette parked in the alley behind the building where Harm's SUV was parked, so he had already figured that he had beaten her there. He just hadn't really thought beyond that to the fact that Harm probably was at home and would hardly be happy to see him. Maybe he should have waited in his car for her to get home and stopped her before she entered the building. Bloody hindsight. With everything that had happened, it was hard to think clearly sometimes.

Harm hesitated and then stepped aside, silently motioning to Mic to come in. Murmuring something to the dog Mic couldn't hear, Harm detached the leash from Jingo's collar and hung it on a peg behind the door. "Can I get you anything?" Harm asked, although Mic could tell from his tone that it was more out of politeness than anything else.

"No, I'm fine," Mic said. He took a seat on the couch while Harm stood leaning against the bar. "How are you doing, Harm?"

Harm's eyes widened in surprise at the question. Mic Brumby was not only making small talk with him, but expressing concern about his condition? Harm studied Mic for a long moment, and decided that the other man seemed nothing but sincere. Finally, he replied, "I'm getting better. I still probably have a few weeks before I'll be cleared to return to work. Longer than that before I can see about being cleared to fly."

"Guess it's a good thing you've got Sarah to take care of you," Mic blurted out before he could think better of it. Damn. He hadn't meant to let his anger show in front of Harm. In other circumstances, he'd be ready to settle things the same way they had been forced to in Sydney, but not now. It was hardly a fair fight at the moment. But someday….Rabb was obviously going to be fine if he was talking about eventually getting back up in the air. The man had the Devil's own luck. If Rabb said he was going to fly again, it was probably going to happen. In other circumstances, he could appreciate the man's determination. Right now, however, that determination was keeping Mic from the woman he loved.

Harm shook his head. "I know you don't believe this," he said, his tone neutral, "but that's not why I married Mac." If there was going to be an argument, Harm was determined not to be the one who started it. He was going to take the high road if it killed him.

Deciding that at this point he might as well go for broke, Mic persisted, "As I recall, you were the one who told me that you didn't think of Sarah that way."

Harm looked down at the bar, unable to refute the truth of that statement. It was hardly the first dumb statement that he'd ever made regarding Mac, and unfortunately it hadn't been the last. Several of them had even been in front of Mic, so he supposed that he could make allowances for Mic's inability to let go. Harm had done a pretty good job of letting Mic believe that he had no interest in Mac as a woman. The man had believed one thing for months and now was being confronted with the exact opposite. His world had been turned upside down, and although Harm would never admit it to Mic, he could understand.

"I just find it odd," Mic continued when Harm didn't respond, "that you didn't think of Sarah that way for years - until you almost died and she was about to marry someone else."

"Look Mic," Harm said, a hint of frustration showing through in his voice. He took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "I'm not going to discuss Mac with you _because our relationship has nothing to do with you_. What is between Mac and me is just between us, just as your relationship was between the two of you."

"How can you say your relationship with my fiancée has nothing to do with me?" Mic asked, struggling not to shout in exasperation. "Sarah and I were going to get married right up until you decided you had to get back at all costs and dumped a multi-million dollar aircraft in the bloody ocean. What were you going to do? Stop the wedding?"

Harm went into the kitchen and slowly fixed himself a cup of coffee. He figured that if he kept his hands busy, he would be less tempted to throttle Mic. He told himself that he should make allowances because Mic was in denial, that he knew how hard it was to let Sarah Mackenzie go, but he was having a hard time feeling much sympathy for Mic. The man was holding on too hard. Harm was glad that Mac wasn't home to deal with this. She had so much to deal with at the moment. She didn't need Mic to make everything worse than it already was.

"Mac made her choice," Harm said in an even tone, still trying to avoid provoking Mic. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love, and I can understand. *Mac* decided that she wasn't going to marry you. That was her decision and hers alone."

"Was it really her decision? Did she change her mind because you seduced her into her bed?" Mic asked. At Harm's silence, he continued, "Yes, I know about that. Sarah and I talked about it when everyone was in Portsmouth to see you in the hospital."

Coming out of the kitchen, Harm took a seat on one of the bar stools, deciding it was time to rest his knee before it started aching again. He took a sip of his coffee as he considered how to reply and winced. He hadn't been paying attention while he'd been fixing the coffee, and he'd added too much sugar. "I know this is not what you want to hear," he said, setting the cup aside, "but Mac is the one who decided to come down to Norfolk. I didn't influence her in any way."

"Assuming that's true," Mic pointed out, "you didn't turn her down either. You knew she was getting married in a few days, and you slept with her anyway. You didn't care that she was marrying me or that you had Renee just waiting for you to commit to her."

That was true for the most part. Harm had been at a low point when Mac had shown up at the officers' club, emotionally raw and vulnerable. He couldn't pretend anymore. He could have no more pushed Mac away at that moment than he could have denied himself. There was a part of him, deep down, that hated himself for letting the entire situation go as far as it did, to the point where the only way they could be together was to betray the people who loved them.

But Mic was wrong to think that he hadn't cared that Mic and Renee were in the picture. That was what made this situation such a mess. It wasn't Mic or Renee's fault that they couldn't be loved the same way in return. In a way, they were innocent in this situation. Neither he nor Mac should have let those relationships go on as long as they had. It was obvious now, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

"Or she couldn't turn you down," Mic continued in the silence. "You must have been very persuasive, given the closing argument of your life to get her into your bed."

"Whatever you want to believe," Harm said dismissively. He wasn't about to admit to Mic Brumby, of all people, just how torn he was inside about how everything had happened.

"I'm sorry that Sarah is going to be hurt by the investigation into the crash," Mic said. "Do you realize what it is going to do to her, when it comes out that you were so desperate to get her away from me that you made a foolhardy decision to fly into a storm? Is it worth dragging her down with you?"

"Mic, I had no intention of stopping the wedding," Harm admitted. "The decision not to go forward with the wedding was Mac's." He ignored Mic's last question. There was a part of him that was afraid that was exactly what was going to happen.

"Yes, she decided that," Mic spat out, "after you damn near killed yourself."

"Mic, there wasn't going to be a wedding…."

"You made sure of that, didn't you?" Mic spat out.

Harm shook his head. It was becoming more apparent with every word out of Mic's mouth that he was in denial about the wedding, about his relationship with Mac, about everything. It was just as obvious that nothing he was going to say would change Mic's mind. The thing was a part of him could understand what Mic was feeling. Harm had been in denial himself. It was a defense mechanism to avoid the pain. And eventually, you became so convinced of the lie that it became the truth. It was probably easier for Mic to see him as the bad guy, rather than face the fact that Mac hadn't loved him the way he'd loved her.

While he was considering his response to Mic's last assertion, he was startled by the sound of the door knob being turned. There were only two people who had an open invitation into his apartment, and he knew it wasn't Sergei. He would have called before coming over, worried interrupting his rest. That could only mean it was….

"Sarah," Mic said, getting up from the couch as she entered the apartment.

Harm slid off the bar stool, but hesitated. His first instinct was to go to Mac and take her in his arms, but that would be rubbing Mic's nose in it. He didn't want to do that.

Stopping short, Mac looked from Mic to Harm warily, wondering what she had just walked into.

"No bloodshed, luv," Mic said with a grin. Despite the tension, he couldn't help the smile. Even after everything, she still had the ability to stop his heart. "Ra….Harm and I were just talking."

Mac's eyes met Harm's, silently wondering if talking was all that had been happening. Not that she thought they would get into a physical fight again, not right now. Mic would want any fight to be an even one, and right now, Harm was no match for the fit former boxer.

Harm nodded at the unspoken question in her eyes. "We were just talking," he confirmed. "Look, why don't I leave you two to talk? I was just about to take Jingo for a walk when Mic showed up."

Mac went over to Harm and put her hand on his arm, turning her head slightly so Mic couldn't hear what she was saying. "You sure?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," Harm replied, just as quietly. He flashed a grin, but Mac noticed there wasn't the normal sparkle and life behind the expression. "Jingo's probably getting antsy anyway. We were literally about to walk out the door when Mic showed up."

"I'm sorry," Mac said sadly, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have had to put up with him." Mic was her problem to deal with, and Harm was being dragged into it when he should be completely focused on his recovery. She hated that she had put Harm in that situation.

"It's okay, really," Harm insisted. "It was….tense, but it could have been worse."

Harm squeezed the hand on his arm, then went over to the door and grabbed Jingo's leash. Jingo eagerly trotted over to have the leash put on. "I'll probably take him around the block," he said, giving Mac an idea of how long they would be gone. "It will be good exercise for me."

Smiling at Mac while pointedly ignoring Mic, Harm turned and led Jingo out of the apartment.

Mac sighed after the door closed behind Harm, setting her purse on the bar and fiddling with the strap as she turned to face Mic. "Mic," she said, "it wasn't a good idea for you to come over here."

"We need to talk, Sarah," he insisted. He took a step towards her, but she held up a hand to stop him. She thought it would be easier if she could keep some distance between them. Not that she thought Mic could persuade her, but maybe it would help him get the message that they were over.

"I suppose we do," Mac admitted. "But you should have called me and I could have met you someplace. The last thing Harm needed was you showing up here unannounced."

"I did call JAG," Mic said. "The petty officer who answered the phone said you had left for the day just a few minutes before I called. I wasn't sure where….what your living arrangements were, so I stopped by your apartment. Rabb's brother told me where to find you. I guess he didn't know who I was, especially since I told him that I needed to discuss a case with you before tomorrow."

"Oh, Mic," Mac said wearily. Now Sergei was being dragged into her problems without even knowing it. As far as she knew, Sergei didn't know who Mic was specifically, although she was sure by now that he had heard something of the unusual circumstances of that horrible weekend. She was sure Mic had been utterly charming in getting her location out of Sergei. That was his way of getting what he wanted. She knew that all too well. "I guess it is a good thing you stopped by, because I have something to return to you."

Turning away from him, she went into the bedroom and searched through one of the dresser drawers until she found what she was look for. Clasping her right hand tightly around whatever was in it, she returned to the living room. Taking one of Mic's hands in hers, she opened her right hand over his upturned palm.

After Mac pulled her hands away, Mic started for a long moment at the diamond solitaire she had placed in his hand then closed his fingers around it, the setting of the ring digging into his palm. "Sarah," he said softly, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"I should have returned the ring to you when we were down in Portsmouth," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest as if she was cold. "There was just so much going on….I know that's not an excuse for letting this go on as long as it has."

"I didn't want the ring back," Mic said.

Mac shook her head, fighting back tears. Mic was a decent man and he truly loved her. It wasn't his fault that his love was not what she needed to make her complete.

"Mic, I'm married to Harm," she reminded him. "I intend to stay married to him."

"Sarah, I can give you the world," Mic said, "everything you've never had and always wanted."

"I know," she admitted in a mournful tone. "And I'm so sorry, Mic. It took me too long to realize this, but your everything isn't what I needed."

"And Rabb is what you need?"

"Yes," Mac replied. "I just didn't know how much until I almost lost him."

"That's the thing, Sarah," Mic said. "You shouldn't have almost lost him because he never should have been in the air that night. You have to realize that."

Mac opened her mouth to say that it was her upcoming wedding which almost cost her Harm, but she realized that Mic was too far into denial to believe her. It was something that he would eventually have to face for himself. She wished she knew how to get him to finally accept that fact.

"Look, Mic," she said as she mentally calculated how long Harm had been gone and when he could be expected back, "Harm should be back soon. He's been having problems with his knee since the crash, so he probably won't go too far in walking Jingo."

"You think I should be gone before he gets back," Mic said.

"It's for the best," Mac replied simply.

Mic reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. He wanted more, wanted to take her in his arms and dry her tears, but he decided it was better not to push too far. Not now. If he was patient, surely she would realize that he could give her everything she needed more than Rabb ever could. Rabb had left once and their relationship had not been the same after he had come back. Mic was determined not to make the same mistake. Leaving would mean ceding the field to Rabb, and there was no way in hell he was going to do that. "If that's what you want for now, Sarah," he conceded. "Just think about what we mean to each other. I *can* give you everything you want."

"Goodbye, Mic," she said, slipping away from him and heading towards the door. She opened the door and reluctantly, he started to go through it.

Before he entered the hallway, he stopped and turned back to her. "I do love you, Sarah," he said. "Please remember that." He then left the apartment and went to wait for the elevator.

Mac closed the door behind him and rested her head against it, giving free reign to her tears. Harm was right – it could have been worse. But Mic still wouldn't see what was right in front of him, that she didn't love him the way he deserved to be loved. It was her fault that she'd led him on for so long, had let him believe that she loved him just as much as he loved her. Now she was the one who had to fix it, but God help her, she couldn't figure out how.

Brushing the tears from her face, she headed to the bedroom to change out of her uniform. As she kicked off her shoes, she caught sight of a piece of paper lying on the bed. She picked it up and unfolded it.

_Mac,_

_Jingo was quite insistent about needing to go for a walk. We'll be back soon, if we're not already back by the time you get home._

_Love,_

_Harm_

"Love, Harm," she read the closing words out loud, smiling in spite of her current mood. She would never grow tired of hearing those words. Setting the note aside, she quickly changed into a t-shirt and denim shorts. At a bit of a loss, she sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on top of her knees, closing her tear-filled eyes.

That was how Harm found her a few minutes later when he and Jingo returned. While Jingo went to get a drink, Harm joined Mac in the bedroom, sitting down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. With a quiet sigh, she snuggled into his embrace. "How are you?" Harm asked, worry evident in his tone.

"I'm fine," she replied, pushing everything aside. She didn't need to burden Harm with how much she had screwed up. She could only hope right now that the fallout would be minimized. "I just hate how much I've hurt Mic. He still isn't willing to accept that it's over, that I'm not going to come back to him. I don't know how to convince him."

"It's hard to let go of someone you love. In a way, I can understand."

"I know," Mac agreed softly. It crossed her mind that he was talking about Diane, but she quickly pushed the thought from her mind. It had come between them in Sydney, and she was determined not to let it happen again. "And maybe Mic will have to figure out how to let go on his own. He obviously doesn't want to listen to anything either of us has to say."

"He thinks that I seduced you into my bed in Norfolk," Harm said. "He didn't want to even consider the possibility that you came to me."

Mac lifted her head and pulled away slightly to look into his eyes. "You talked about Norfolk?" she asked with apprehension. What else had they talked about?

"He said the two of you had talked about it while everyone was down at Portsmouth," Harm said. "You didn't tell me about that."

"You knew I'd met with Mic," Mac replied, telling herself not to get defensive. She'd had her reasons for keeping that part of the conversation from Harm at the time. He hadn't needed to deal with it on top of everything else at the time.

"But you didn't tell me that he knew we had spent the night together before I left for the _Henry_," he pointed out.

Mac hesitated a moment before replying. She could hear the hurt in his voice, the trepidation that there was something else he didn't know, something Mic may have said or done. "You were still in ICU," she reminded him.

"I could have been there for you," Harm insisted.

"Harm, you weren't in any condition at the time to deal with my issues," she said, cradling his face in her hands. "There was nothing you could have done. Unfortunately, this particular issue *is* mine to deal with. I have to handle Mic on my own."

"That doesn't mean I can't be there for you after…." He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. "For better, for worse, remember?"

"I know," she said, blinking back tears.

Harm wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, her head resting on his chest. They let the silence envelop them – there didn't seem to be anything left to say. Or maybe there was too much to say for which words just couldn't be found.

* * *

Author's notes - Boy, that was quick, wasn't it? I had been expecting to have a little trouble with this part because I figured that it would be difficult to capture the exact tone I wanted for this part. This part almost wrote itself, which was surprising to me. And as a reminder, this is not the Mic of 'Stormy Weather'. He may be in denial, but he's basically a good guy, which is hard for me to say, as I never did like the character (the way he forced Mac's hand in "Boomerang II", "Surface Warfare" and "Family Secrets" and treated her like a trophy in "Florida Straits" did a lot to form my negative opinion of the guy - and let's not get into the jacka** he was in "Adrift II"). And as an officer of the court, he thinks he's doing the right thing in his deposition regarding Harm's crash. He has a fiduciary responsibility to come forward with information which is pertinent to the investigation. Mic just doesn't know how to let go yet (ironic, huh?). He will eventually figure it out (and before the end of this chapter). There are also a couple of hints in this part of things that will help build towards the climax of this chapter. I won't say too much about that, except that the end of the chapter will incorporate events from early season 7, just occurring in a slightly different timeline. For example (which won't give too much away), the case that Harm worked on in 'New Gun in Town' will be part of 'Lean on Me', but Mac won't be on the _Guadalcanal _as she was on the show at the same time.

And to whet your appetite for the next part - part 10 will see the final appearance of Renee Peterson, but not before she finds out some information which she passes on to Mic. This information will just confirm for Mic his suppositions about Harm and Mac's relationship and further re-enforce for him that he's doing the right thing. Another hint - this information will be related to a dangling plot point from 'Chapter II - If Tomorrow Never Comes'.


	10. Chapter 10

TUESDAY MORNING  
19 JUNE 2001  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Harm hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, as he looked through the peep hole in his door. He'd been expecting this, but after the confrontation with Mic a few days earlier, he wasn't sure he had it in him to go through that again. She might have restrained herself while he was in the hospital, but he wasn't so sure she would now. But this had to be done.

He opened the door and managed a weak grin. "Hello, Renee," he said. He motioned her inside the apartment.

"Hello, Harm," she said. She stopped just inside the door, jingling her keys nervously in her hand. Attracted by the noise, Jingo peeked out of the bedroom at the newcomer. After a moment, apparently satisfied that nothing was going on, he disappeared again behind the divider.

After a long moment, Harm broke the uneasy silence permeating the apartment. "The boxes are there behind the desk," he said, motioning in that direction.

"Thank you," Renee said softly, looking where he had indicated. Three file boxes, the entire sum of her relationship with Harm, a relationship that she'd invested herself in heart and soul. Perhaps it was appropriate that everything had been condensed into those boxes. There hadn't been as much to their relationship as she'd thought there was and now it was time for her to pack up and move on with her life. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to come earlier to pick them up."

"It's okay," Harm said with a shrug. "There's been a lot going on around here since I got home. My parents and grandmother just left on Friday. Sergei is settled into Ma….well, settled into an apartment."

Renee took a deep breath to steady herself, realizing what he had been about to say. Mac. It had always been Mac, no matter how hard she'd tried to deny it. Sometimes, she wished she had never taken the job to produce that Navy commercial, had never heard of Harmon Rabb or anyone else associated with him. What was that saying, about being better to have loved and lost? She wasn't quite sure she was ready to believe that yet. Maybe someday, with a little help.

"My father died," she blurted out, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She wanted him to take her into his arms, to comfort her, but she knew that would never happen. By telling him about her recent troubles, she was just setting herself up to be disappointed.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. He thought he should give her a hug, offer comfort in some way, but she might misinterpret it.

"That's why I didn't return your call," she explained, "when you first called about picking up my things. I found out the day after I got back from seeing you at the hospital. I've been in Minnesota with my mother. I came back to Washington yesterday to….take care of some things and finally got your message."

Harm studied her for a long moment then motioned to the couch. "Why don't you sit down for a moment?" he suggested. "You look exhausted."

She hesitated a moment, then took him up on the offer as he took a seat in the matching chair. "It's been rough," she said. They both knew she wasn't only talking about her father's death. "My parents were married for almost forty years and Daddy's death was so sudden. Mom is taking it so hard. I didn't really want to leave her yet, but Cyrus agreed to keep any eye on her while I was gone."

"Who's Cyrus?" Harm asked. He knew Renee was an only child. They'd gone out right after he'd gotten back from Iceland, and he had been obviously distracted throughout dinner, even as he was supposed to be making it up to her for missing their last date because of said trip. To avoid her pointed questions about his less than jovial mood, he'd encouraged her to talk about herself. Although his memory was still a little hazy in places, he was pretty sure she had never mentioned someone named Cyrus.

"He's….an old friend," she said hesitantly.

"Must have been a good one."

Had she and Harm ever been friends? She'd been with him for nearly a year and a half, but could she say she really had gotten to know him? Sure they'd had fun together, or she'd thought they had. And the sex had been better than good. But there had always been a wall around him, and he'd never quite let her in. "Very," she said with a faraway look in her eyes. "We haven't seen each other much in years, but we've been getting reacquainted since I went home."

"Good," Harm said. At her started look, he added, "You should be happy."

"I thought I could have been with you," she said sadly. She blinked, willing away the sudden moisture in her eyes. She was not going to be weak in front of him. She was not going to cry. "But I never had a chance, did I?"

"Renee," Harm began, at a loss as to what to say. He'd never had to dissect a relationship like this. Diane had died before they'd figured it out, one way or the other. His break with Annie had been abrupt, and he'd managed to push it from his mind afterwards in the midst of everything that had happened with his reinvestigation of Diane's murder. Jordan had tried, but he'd resisted her efforts to psychoanalyze him, and she'd pretty much given up when he'd decided to return to flying. She had decided that she didn't want to be with a pilot and that was that.

Mac….he didn't even know where to begin there, but she was now his, until death did them part. He loved her, and she loved him. All the rest didn't matter, not anymore, had all fallen away the moment she'd agreed to marry him.

"I know," she said, brushing away his awkward attempt with a wave of her hand. "Not your thing to talk like that. I just wish I'd known what I was going up against, all the history there. I mean, you've known her for what, more than a decade? You've probably been through so much more than I can't even imagine…." She trailed off at the confused look on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"I met Mac almost five years ago," he said. "She came to headquarters in the fall of 1996." Suddenly, he was assaulted with memories of the meeting outside a Rose Garden that would ultimately change and enrich his life in more ways than he could explain or even understand.

_Oh, I'm sorry, Major. Of course, I don't know you. I just had a moment of déja vu._

_Must be the uniform._

_No, actually, she was in the Navy._

He smiled slightly, remembering her confusion as he'd first told the Admiral that he knew her before admitting it was déja vu. There had been no way her confusion, or the Admiral's, had come close to matching his own. He'd felt that he'd just fallen off a precipice without a handhold in sight.

There had been something electric between them from the moment their eyes had first locked. Maybe at first it could have been chalked up to her resemblance to the woman he'd loved and so recently lost, but it hadn't been like that for a long time. He couldn't say exactly when that had changed, when he had stopped getting Diane and Mac mixed up in his mind and recognized them as two distinct women with different personalities.

_I keep forgetting I don't know you._

_Déja vu again?_

_Only whenever I see your face. Or hear you talk. I wouldn't know about your smile, I haven't seen one yet._

_There's not much to smile about._

_I guess not._

_Sounds like I have a twin out there._

_Not anymore._

Lost in the memories, it was a moment before he realized that Renee was trying to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pushed the thoughts from his mind and forced himself to acknowledge the woman in front of him.

"Don't mess with me, Harm," she said, anger bursting forth for no reason that he could explain.

"Renee, I don't know…." He began in a placating tone.

He stared in shock as she jumped up and stormed over to his bookcase, yanking one of his photo albums off the shelf and flipping through it. Finding the page she wanted, she came back over to him and dropped the album onto the coffee table with a thud, leaning over and jabbing a finger at one of the photos.

Swallowing hard, Harm looked down at the picture she was indicating, then looked back at Renee. When had she gone through his things, his personal memories? When had she violated his privacy?

"That was taken ten years ago," she proclaimed angrily, no longer worried about hiding her tears. She started to pull off the plastic protecting the photo so she could show him the back of the picture, but he placed his hand over hers to stop her. Renee jerked back her hand as if she'd been stung.

Harm held up his hands in supplication, trying to silently indicate that he wasn't going to hurt her. "I know when this was taken," he said, looking down at the picture again. He's still been recovering from his crash at his grandmother's farm when Diane had managed to take a week's leave and come up to visit him. He was pretty sure his grandmother had called Diane and told her that he was thinking about leaving the Navy and that she'd dropped everything as quickly as she could and rushed up to Pennsylvania.

Not that Diane had said so. In fact, she hadn't said much of anything at all, hadn't tried to encourage or discourage him either way. She'd just been there, sitting beside him on the porch as he stared off into the distance, rushing into his room to hold him when the nightmares disrupted his sleep, handing him tools when he worked on 'Sarah'. She'd let him find his own way, merely offering a strong shoulder to lean on. It had meant so much to him, and that's when he'd started thinking that he was falling in love with one of his best friends.

The photo had been taken the day she'd left, just hours before she'd gotten into her car and driven back to her own career in Norfolk. After breakfast, she'd accompanied him on a short walk around the farm, silently strolling with her hand in his as they enjoyed the beautiful spring day and their last hours together. As they'd returned to the house, his grandmother had appeared on the porch with a camera, taking a quick picture of them in front of the barn before telling Harm to rest. Although he had acquiesced, he hadn't really been tired, despite still hobbling around on a cane. He hadn't felt so well since before the crash.

He looked back up, finding Renee still standing on the opposite side of the coffee table, her arms crossed over her chest. "Her name is Diane," he said.

"Diane?" It was Renee's turn to look stunned. It wasn't Mac? Her world shifted, but she wasn't sure if it was in a good way or bad.

"We went to the Academy together," he said by way of explanation, as inadequate as it was. There was no way he could explain this.

"Really?" Renee said incredulously. "Well, maybe I should have cut my hair and dyed it brown. Would I have held your attention then?"

"Renee…."

"So where is she?" she demanded. "Does she know you're married to her virtual twin?"

"She died," Harm replied, glancing away. "She was murdered five years ago."

Renee didn't say anything for a long moment. This was screwed up in so many ways. She hadn't only been competing with whatever the hell had been going on between him and Mac all this time, but with a ghost. She almost felt sorry for Mac….almost. Had she known what she was getting into? She shook her head. Did it really matter? Harm and all his walls and all his ghosts were now hers to deal with. Mac was welcome to them.

Harm closed the album and looked back at Renee, an apologetic look in his eyes. Now it was Renee who looked away, trying to avoid falling into his gaze. She wasn't going to fall again. She wouldn't let it happen. She had to close the book on the life she'd thought she'd had with Harmon Rabb. That was why she was here, after all. "Why couldn't you just tell me that I never had a snowball's chance?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

She bit back a sigh of frustration. That was the only answer she was going to get from him, she was sure. It was pointless to continue the conversation. "I guess I'll just get my stuff and go," she said.

"I'll help you take those down…." Harm began.

"I don't need your help," Renee interrupted angrily. She started towards the boxes, stopping next to the desk. She fiddled with her key ring a moment then tossed something on the desk.

Harm watched her silently toss a copy of his apartment key on the desk, wanting to offer some kind of comfort even as he realized that it wouldn't be accepted. He had never wanted to hurt Renee, but he realized that had been inevitable. He had never mentioned Diane, never talked about his relationship with Mac, partly for this reason. There was no way to explain this, even if he had wanted to. Even with those who knew both women – Bud, Sturgis, Keeter – he had never discussed this. Bud was a junior officer, and there was no way Harm would have talked about this with him, although Bud had tried to bring up the subject right after they'd met Mac. Keeter, and apparently Sturgis as well, knew better than to even try.

Movement from the bedroom caught Harm's eye, and he made a decision. "I need to take Jingo for a walk," he said. "I'll let you finish up here, if you could lock the door before you leave."

Renee paused for a long moment before she agreed with a nod. She watched as he put Jingo's leash on and grabbed his keys, stuffing them in the pocket of his jeans.

"Renee, I'm sorry," Harm said, pausing after he opened the door. "I hope you'll be happy."

"I will be," she said, trying to inject a note of confidence that she didn't feel into her voice. Could Cyrus make her happy? Certainly happier than Harmon Rabb was capable of, she knew that now. She wondered if he was capable of making any woman happy. With a shake of her head, she pushed the thought from her mind. It didn't matter anymore. It wasn't her concern.

She waited until she heard the elevator start its descent then started carrying her boxes into the hallway. God, how had she been so stupid? She considered herself so smart, so savvy. The signs were so obvious now. How had she not paid attention to them?

Standing in the hall, she reached out to push the elevator button but she couldn't make herself push the button, knowing that this was it. She was never going to see Harm again and in spite of everything, it still hurt like hell. She rested her head against the wall, finally giving free reign to her tears. After everything, it should be easy to hold her head high and just walk away. Why couldn't it be that easy?

"Damn you, Harm," she cried, holding her stomach, mourning the forever she'd thought she'd have with him. She couldn't stop the pain, stop the devastation she felt at losing everything she wanted. Cyrus was good to her, he would be a steady and calming influence in the midst of her hectic life, but it wouldn't quite be the same. Harm was excitement and heat and she thought that had made him fit perfectly into her life, but it had all been an illusion. She would just have to figure out how to pick up the pieces and move on with her life.

She stabbed the elevator button and bent to pick up her purse, but clumsily let it slip from her grasp, its contents spilling onto the floor. "Of course," she muttered as she knelt down to stuff everything back in her purse. She stopped short as she retrieved her cell phone, and without a second thought, she flipped it open and searched through her contacts, punching the call button with her thumb once she'd found it.

There were two rings before a familiar voice answered, "Brumby."

"Mic, it's so goddamned screwed up," Renee said, her voice shaking.

Her voice was so unsteady that it took Mic a moment to recognize it. "Renee?" he asked. "Where are you? Is it your family?" He knew her father had died – she had called him from the airport on her way out of town, needing someone to talk to while she waited for her plane, and he had been the only one she could turn to. Those she might have spoken to before were no longer available to her, and Mic had been nice to her, even as both their lives had been falling apart – or more likely because of it.

"No, I…." she trailed off, unable to find the words. She couldn't figure out how to explain this. "It was all a lie, even more so than I thought."

"Renee, I'm sorry but I have to ask," Mic said, his tone cautious. "Have you been drinking?"

"I wish," she said, sagging against the wall. "Maybe then all this would make sense."

"Perhaps you should start at the beginning," Mic suggested.

"I don't know where that is," she said, pushing her hair back from her face with her free hand. "Did you know Mac only came to Washington in the fall of '96?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. _What does Sarah have to do with this? _Mic wondered. "Of course," he replied. "She came here from Quantico to work on a case and ended up staying. What does that have to do with anything?"

"You remember that picture I showed you?" she asked.

"What picture?"

"The night of Harm's crash," she explained. "The one in his photo album. You took it out and the stamp on the back was 1991."

"Vaguely," he replied. He had tried to forget that, to push from his mind the seemingly uphill battle he was fighting. "So?"

"That wasn't Mac in the picture," she said.

Seated behind his desk in his office, Mic looked down at the picture of Sarah on his desk in confusion, mentally superimposing the image that he'd seen that night. "That doesn't make any sense," he said. "I think I'd know a picture of my own fiancée. They obviously met before they were stationed together at JAG headquarters. It's not that big a command compared to some. They had probably worked together on cases before."

Even as he said that, he knew they wouldn't have been working together back in 1991. Sarah hadn't even been a lawyer yet, had just started law school that year, and he knew that before then, she'd been in Okinawa with John Farrow.

Had that been where they'd met, when had Rabb been active as a pilot? He couldn't remember, assuming he'd ever known. He'd never really wanted to know. But if Rabb had been a pilot back then, it wasn't inconceivable that he would have made his way to Okinawa at some point and their paths had crossed. He tried to remember from Sarah's trial when she'd left Okinawa, as the picture had given every indication of having been taken in the States.

"Harm wasn't a lawyer in 1991," Renee said, unknowingly echoing Mic's train of thought. "His crash was in January of that year – that's probably why he had the cane in the photo. He was still recovering. He started at Georgetown that fall." She knew that much from his service jacket, or what little of it she had been shown while choosing her subject for the recruiting video.

"Sarah went to Duke Law, same time," Mic said slowly, trying to put the pieces together in his mind. So far, they didn't fit together.

"I stopped by Harm's….well, it doesn't matter," she said. "Anyway, I got into it with him about fighting with all his history with Mac and how they'd known each other for more than a decade. Mic, Harm said he'd only known her for five years. They didn't meet until she came here."

"That makes no bloody sense, Renee," he said, even as he couldn't think of a reason for Rabb to lie. That made just as little sense. What would be the point?

"Her name was Diane," Renee said. "Harm said they went to the Academy together."

"So Sarah doesn't have an identical twin out there," Mic said, the joke sounding lame to his ears. He knew Sarah was several years younger than Rabb. "Just a doppelganger."

"Even if she had a twin, she doesn't anymore," Renee said. "Diane was murdered, according to Harm."

"Wow," Mic said, incredulous. To try to make sense of this was beyond him at the moment. It was like looking at one of those abstract pieces of art at a museum, the ones that only made sense to the artist and meant something different to everyone who looked at it. "So this is what has you upset?"

"You don't understand, do you?" Renee asked.

"No, I don't," he admitted.

"Just think, Mic," she said in a rush. The sooner she could get through this, the sooner she could begin to forget about it. "How kinds of screwed up is this situation with Harm being married to a woman who looks exactly like someone he went to the Academy with, someone whom he was obviously quite close to, judging from that photo? Do you think you could meet Mac's double and not see and think of Mac every time you saw her? Just what the hell did we stumble into?"

It hit him like a ton of bricks. Now he could see the implications, and he sure as hell didn't like what he saw. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. What was that bastard doing to his Sarah? Who did he see when he looked at her? Was he using her as a replacement for this Diane woman? "Was Rabb involved with this woman?"

"I didn't ask," Renee said with a bitter laugh. "I didn't think I could take one more blow today."

_Does Sarah know_? Mic wondered. Surely she couldn't. There was no way she could let herself be a mere replacement for another woman. She wanted more and deserved more.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He knew Rabb could never give her everything he could, and this just proved it. With that knowledge came the conviction that he was doing the right thing. This relationship was wrong in so many ways, more ways than he could have possibly imagined. Sarah would see that eventually. He was sorry that it was going to hurt her like hell when she finally did.

He couldn't just come out and tell her. He knew through the grapevine – Bud, actually, who'd expressed his own anger at the actions of a man he considered a friend – that Sarah had been angry about his deposition to Commander Fleming. In fact, when he'd seen her Friday, he'd avoided bringing it up and she hadn't mentioned it. He hoped that meant she was settling down, that deep down she knew he was doing what he had to do.

This would be throwing gasoline on the dying embers, fanning the flames. He needed Sarah's trust, wanted her to know she could turn to him when her relationship with Rabb imploded. And implode it would. This new information made it an absolute certainty. Sarah was going to fall, and hard, and he had to be there for her to help pick up the pieces. He couldn't do anything to jeopardize that. As an officer of the court, he'd had no choice regarding the deposition. This….Sarah didn't need to know this. He wasn't going to hurt her like that. Rabb was going to hurt her as it was.

"Look, Mic," Renee said, "I needed someone to talk to, but I also thought you should know. It puts quite a different spin on things, doesn't it?"

"Quite," Mic agreed. "So does this make you change your mind about staying and fighting?"

"Not unless I cut my hair and dye it brown," she said, laughing bitterly. "Sorry, my own little joke, except the joke was on me. He doesn't love me. He never did and never could. It's obvious now that he's incapable of it, at least with me. Maybe I could have fought against the very real presence of Mac as long as she was inaccessible to Harm by your marriage. But I can't fight against that and a ghost, too. That's too much for anyone. Nobody is that strong."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

Renee was touched by the compassion she heard in his voice. He really did mean that, and it meant more to her than Harm's attempt at an apology earlier. Maybe if he didn't have his own hang ups regarding one Sarah Mackenzie…..but there was no way in hell she was wading into those waters again.

Anyway, she had Cyrus waiting for her. He may not be Harmon Rabb, but that was good enough for her. In fact, it was very high on the list of selling points. She had known Cyrus almost her entire life, knew there was no reason to doubt his feelings for her. There were many who didn't have that much, including her in that past life she was now shedding like an old, worn out winter coat which no longer kept her warm.

"So what now?" Mic asked after a long moment of silence stretched over the line.

"I go back to Minnesota," she said, much calmer now that she'd hashed things out with someone who understood what she was going through like no other. "My mother is still having a hard time; I wouldn't have even come back to DC right now if I hadn't had a few things to wrap up here on my last production. And there's Cyrus waiting." She found that she could smile at the thought.

"You've already met someone," Mic said. "I guess you really are ready to move on."

"Cyrus has always been there," Renee said. "I think he was just expecting me to come back eventually, wanting the same things he wanted. Do you know what that feels like, that he would still be there for me?"

In a roundabout way, he could. He hoped desperately that Sarah would feel the same once she realized that he would always be there for her. He prayed with everything he had in him that he and Sarah would still get their forever.

"I'm happy for you," he said. "You do deserve it, and you definitely deserve better than Rabb."

"Thanks, Mic," she said. "And someday you'll get your miracle, too, just like I am."

"Thank you, Renee," he echoed. "I hope so. I really hope so."

"Mic, I'm sorry, but I really need to let you go," she said. "I've got to take these boxes down to my car before Harm gets back from walking the dog."

"You're at Rabb's?"

"Yeah," she replied. "He had called and left a message for me that I had a few things at his place, but I was already home, so I didn't get the message until I came back to DC. I came over to pick them up and that's when everything came out. After I'd gotten so upset, he figured discretion was the better part of valor or something, and decided to walk the dog while I finished up here. I want to get these boxes down to my car and be out of here before he gets back."

"I understand," he said. "Goodbye, Renee. Give me a call sometime, let me know how you're doing."

"You do the same," she said, "just as long…."

"No talk of Sarah to you. I promise," he interrupted, realizing that she would be the last thing she would want to hear about. He laughed. "I can regale you the latest tales from the case files of Brumby & Brumby, minus that information protected by attorney-client privilege."

In spite of herself, Renee laughed. Mic was a good man, and Mac was obviously a fool to have thrown him over for the emotionally stunted Harm. "I'm looking forward to it," she said. "Goodbye, Mic."

She hung up the phone and tossed it back in her purse with a sigh. She felt better now that she had talked to Mic. He had been so nice to her ever since the crash. Even though it might help his case with Mac to have her fighting just as hard for Harm, he hadn't pushed her to join forces with him. He knew that wasn't what she wanted and would work to carry on the fight on his own. He could accept that, especially after what she'd just told him, and wish her well wherever life took her. It felt so good to be able to have someone to talk to who made no demands, had no expectations.

Pulling the gate back on the elevator, which had been waiting for her throughout the call with Mic, she carried the boxes into the elevator and pulled the gate behind her. It wouldn't be easy, but she felt a little bit stronger after confiding in Mic. She could start putting it behind her and moving on with her life.

After hanging up the phone, Mic glanced at his appointment book. Nothing that afternoon. It was hard building a practice, and he didn't have the future promise of Sarah joining him, using her contacts to help build the clientele. The few clients he did have were just barely keeping him afloat, but he'd probably have to make some decisions soon. He didn't think he'd be able to afford both his office and apartment for much longer. He did have a second office in the space he'd leased here – the one he'd hoped Sarah would eventually take. In a pinch, it could do as a bedroom. There was also a bathroom with a small shower – the agent had told him the previous tenant had been a fitness buff and had insisted on having a shower to use after working out during lunch. Lucky him. It certainly made things a lot easier.

He definitely hadn't accumulated a lot of stuff since he'd moved back to Washington – he hadn't wanted to worry about moving a bunch of stuff into Sarah's after the wedding. He'd spent most of his time over there anyway, so there wasn't much point in having a lot of things in his own apartment. Moving his stuff in here wouldn't be that difficult. Giving up his apartment would certainly help, and the lease was up anyway at the end of the month. He had been planning to give it up anyway – his lease had been up before Sarah's, so moving into her place made more sense rather than paying a penalty to break her lease. He could handle living in his office for a few months. He would also save money on gas going back and forth every day.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Now that he had figured out his living arrangements, he couldn't help but think about the bombshell Renee had dropped on him. He just didn't know what to do with it. He needed more information. With another glance at his appointment calendar, he knew what he had to do.

THAT AFTERNOON  
NIMITZ LIBRARY  
UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY  
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

Mic strode into the library dressed in his uniform, thinking it would make it easier for him to get help as "one of the club." He headed for the main desk and caught the attention of a civilian woman behind the desk. He flashed a bright smile. "I wouldn't if you could help me, Ma'am," he said. "I'm Commander Mic Brumby of the Royal Australian Navy. I'm a lawyer and I need a witness for one of my cases, only my client isn't being entirely forthcoming with information about her. I do know the woman I'm looking for attended the Academy with my client."

"I'm Beth Stewart, head of reference services, Commander," she said. "You're a little far from home, Commander."

"Exchange program between our respective Navies," Mic explained vaguely. That had certainly been true at one time. If the woman wanted to interpret that to mean he was still part of the program, it would only make it easier for him to get the information he needed. He was wearing a uniform that he was entitled to wear, so he couldn't get into trouble for impersonating an officer. The rest was immaterial.

"Well, Commander, if you know when your client attended the Academy," she said, having decided to take his presence at face value, "you can check through the yearbooks for the years your client was here. I assume you know the name of the woman you're looking for?"

Mic nodded. He didn't know her full name, but he saw her face every night in his dreams. He'd be able to find her.

"Come with me, Commander," Beth said as she came around the counter. "I'll show you where the yearbooks are. "

"Thank you," he said as he glanced at her hand for a ring, "Mrs. Stewart. Also, can you tell me if you have back copies of the _Navy Times_? I'd like to find out as much as I can about this woman who may be able to help my client."

"We do, Commander," she replied. "We've been working with the publishing company to computerize them, but it's slow work. As long as you don't want to go back more than 20-30 years, you can search the archives on computer."

"That should be adequate for what I'm looking for," Mic said. "The people in question attended the Academy in the early 80s."

After a walk across the floor, she led him to the elevator and up to the next floor. They walked along long rows of shelves to the right of the elevator before she found the one she was looking for. "The Lucky Bags are down this aisle, chronologically by year," she said. At his puzzled look, she explained, "Lucky Bags is the name of our yearbook. If you remove a book from the shelf, please put it on the cart at the end of the shelf, so my people can make sure they are put back properly."

"And the computer to search the archives of the _Navy Times_?" he asked.

"Go back to the elevators and go straight away from them," she directed. "At the center of the room are a bunch of computer desks. They all should be on a main screen which will give you a link to what you need. Some links are limited to students and staff of the Academy, and are marked accordingly, but the _Navy Times_ archives are accessible to all. There are staff members moving around the floor at all times, so just ask someone if you need any assistance."

"That you, Mrs. Stewart," he said with a smile. "You've been most helpful."

After she left him to his search, he started down the aisle. Judging from the years of the books to his immediate left, what he was looking for was obviously towards the end of the row. Finally, he found the yearbooks from the 1980s on the next to the last column of shelves. He wasn't entirely sure what Rabb's exact years were at the Academy, so he decided to split the different and grabbed the yearbook for 1983.

He didn't know how long the search would take, since he didn't know which class year Rabb had been that year, so he took the book over to a nearby table and sat down. The grey embossed book was thick and he had to flip through more than half the book before he found the individual student photos. Once he found the first classmen, he flipped to the beginning of the 'R's. No Rabb. He hit pay dirt with the second classmen. There was Rabb, looking almost the same as now.

He didn't know which class this Diane had been in, but now that he'd found Rabb, he'd go on the assumption that they were in the same class and work from there until he found her. He flipped back to the beginning of the second classmen, running a finger down the page as he briefly glanced at each photo.

The first face he recognized wasn't the mysterious Diane – it was Jack Keeter, whom he'd met at the end of that Iranian business two years earlier. After that, he found nothing before he came across Rabb's picture again. Moving forward from there, he finally hit pay dirt in the first quarter of the 'S's. Midshipman 2nd Class Diane L. Schonke. Her declared major was mathematics, which meant there were brains to go with the beauty. It was just another similarity to Sarah.

Now that he had a name to go with the face, he could move onto the _Navy Times_ archives. After setting the yearbook on the previously indicated cart, he made his way to the computer desks. It was mid-afternoon, so most of the cadets were in class, meaning he had the place to himself at the moment. He sat down at the nearest empty desk and studied the main menu screen. It was certainly easy enough to use.

He clicked on the link for the Navy Times and typed in his search criteria. If she had been a 2nd classman in the spring of 1983, then she had graduated the Academy in 1984. He selected 1996 as the final parameter. If Sarah and Rabb had met in the fall of '96, he assumed that Diane had to have died before then, or surely Mac would have known about it.

He leaned back as the computer completed its search. It came up with numerous results, but most were routine – the results of promotions boards, awards, and postings. Her last promotion board listing was in April 1996, so she'd obviously still been alive at that time. But she hadn't lived long enough to actually receive the promotion – the next article was the one about her murder. She had been found shot to death in her car at the port the morning after the carrier she was serving on had docked after a cruise.

As he read through the article, he noted that there were brief comments from the investigating officers. The NCIS Agent Brian Turque had given the standard, "We can't comment on an ongoing investigation," to most of the questions he was asked. The JAG officer – one Harmon Rabb, Jr. – had been just as forthcoming, only stating that "Pertinent personnel were still being interviewed in order to establish the facts of the case."

So Rabb had been assigned to investigate the murder of his…..what had she been to him? His Academy sweetheart? Just a friend? It didn't really matter.

What would something like that do to a man's head? His girlfriend or whatever was murdered in May 1996 then he met Mac that fall. The man must have thought he was seeing a ghost. How do you get over something like that, working very close every day to a living, breathing reminder of what you had lost? He already knew Rabb had his issues – he'd been told about his father and the crash soon after he'd arrived at JAG. This man, however, had more issues than anyone realized.

In the condition Rabb had been in after the crash, had he been completely aware of whom he'd been talking to when he'd proposed to Sarah? Had he been seeing his dead love? In his extreme hypothermia, had he gotten the two confused in his mind? He imagined Rabb begging Sarah to marry him, not truly realizing who she was, while Sarah magnanimously agreed to grant the request of a possibly dying man.

What was he supposed to do with this information? He made a few notes on a legal pad he'd brought with him then drew boxes and triangles around the margins as he contemplated what he'd learned. He wanted….no, needed to protect Sarah, but he wasn't sure how to do it. He had to move carefully, or Sarah would lash out at him as well. She needed to know that she could turn to him when all her illusions were shattered. He had to play this very carefully. Maybe it didn't need to come out at all. Perhaps the current investigation would take care of everything.

* * *

Author's notes -

As I mentioned previously, Renee makes her final appearance, but she has even more questions than she has answers now about just what it is she's been involved with for the past year and a half. And she's not being malicious in passing this information on to Mic. She needs someone to talk to, and Mic turned out to be a pretty good shoulder for her back in Drifting on a Lonely Sea II and III. And I hope you'll find what Mic decides to do with this information pretty surprising. As I said when I posted part 9, the seeds for this were sown all the back back in DOALS II (part 10, specifically). I very seldom do anything without a reason, and I'd always meant to come back to the scene I'm referring to.

Now, the last section with Mic wasn't originally going to be in this part, but as I was writing, I realized that the story worked better by including Mic's investigation in this part, and then breaking after that. Part 11 will pick up the following week (story-time) as Harm begins to go stir-crazy sitting at home and some communications issues rear their ugly head between Harm and Mac. If you haven't figured it out already, the title of this chapter, Lean on Me, is meant to be ironic, because it doesn't always happen that way (there's a reason that I chose to post the specific verse of the song I did at the beginning of part 1 of this chapter, at least on my website). Just because Harm and Mac are now married doesn't mean things are going to be easy for them and, as usual, they sometimes get in their own way.


	11. Chapter 11

MONDAY MORNING  
25 JUNE 2001  
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"I am not sure that you should be doing this."

"Dr. Grayson gave me clearance to drive," Harm said tersely, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while waiting for the light to change. It had taken no small amount of persuasion on his part to convince his neurologist that he was feeling well enough to drive, at least around town. It had taken even more to get a reluctant okay to travel to Annapolis over the coming weekend for Skates' wedding, and that only after he had sworn that he wouldn't get behind the wheel for that trip and would let Mac drive.

He hadn't even mentioned to the doctor that he was planning to go up to Pennsylvania for the Fourth of July. In fact, he was still having a hard time convincing Mac that he was going to be up to the four-hour drive, regardless of who was driving. He thought he would have a stronger case after making the trip to Skates' wedding, so he was putting off making his final argument for the trip to his grandmother's until after the weekend. Once Mac saw that he was fine and had gotten through Skates' wedding with no ill-effects, he was sure Mac would agree to get away and could help convince the doctor. At this point, he was sure that Mac needed the trip just as much as he did. With the Fourth being on a Wednesday, they would have plenty of time to kick back, and try not to think about everything going on in their lives.

"I do not think leaving the hospital to drive to JAG headquarters is what the doctor had in mind," Sergei said, surreptitiously studying his brother out of the corner of his eye. Certainly, Harm looked better than he had since the accident, and did not seem to tire quite so easily. But Sergei could not forget the cold fear he had felt on hearing of the accident and the long flight from Moscow, wondering if the brother he barely knew was going to still be alive by the time he landed in the U.S. His first sight of Harm in the hospital had done little to allay those fears.

When their grandmother had returned home the previous week, she had invited Sergei to come up with her, to spend some time getting to know each other on the family farm. He had demurred, promising to come up in a few weeks for the holiday. His grandmother hadn't pushed, but she had sensed the reason behind his reluctance, he could tell. He was afraid to give up this time with the brother he had almost lost.

"I'm not going back to work," Harm insisted.

In the seat beside him, Sergei rolled his eyes. "No," he said, "you are just going to ask the Admiral to give you work to do."

"I can certainly sit at home and draft reports," Harm countered. "It will give me something to do all day." He had brought up to Mac his idea of renovating the apartment, but she had been hesitant. He had shown her the plans he had drawn up and although she had agreed, in general, with the concept of remaking the apartment into something that was theirs, she still thought it was the wrong time to begin such a large project. She had wanted him to wait, but for what, he wasn't really sure. She had said that she thought he should see how he did once he got back to work and was back into the swing of things in his life. He had been frustrated at the suggestion, as that defeated the purpose of beginning the work now, when he was stuck at home with little to do beyond resting and exercising his still-troublesome knee.

"Does the doctor know that you are going to ask the Admiral for work?" Sergei asked.

"I should have dropped you off at Mac's apartment," Harm muttered as he turned onto the street where JAG was located.

"You promised to show me around this place where you work," Sergei reminded him. The extracted promise had more to do with keeping an eye on Harm more than anything else, and both men knew it. Harm thought it was ironic considering that Sergei was still recovering from his five-month ordeal as a prisoner. Harm had acquiesced because it was easier than arguing with Sergei, plus he knew it would make Mac feel better if he was accompanied when he stopped by. She was trying not to hover and was hesitant about the increased freedom of movement that he was pushing for with the doctor, so he thought it would ease her mind somewhat if she could see that he was trying to still take it easy.

"You're not going anywhere anytime soon," Harm said. "There's plenty of time to show you around."

"We don't know that," Sergei reminded him, turning to look out the window.

"You've been here just under a month," Harm countered after a long moment of silence. "Even on the tourist visa, you still have two more months." Even as he said the words, he wasn't quite able to mask the concern in his tone. The visa that Clay had wrangled for Sergei had only been for 90 days, and so far, he had not returned any messages left with him about extending it further until they could prove Sergei's paternity and do away with the visa requirement altogether. Harm had worried to Mac that due to the circumstances of his father's presence in Russia, there might be pushback to allowing Sergei to remain in the country. After all, some might think that it any ideas of claiming citizenship for Sergei would be dropped if he were forced from the country before proof of paternity could be obtained.

Their grandmother was working on trying to find something that would provide usable DNA from their father, but so far, she hadn't found anything. With the time required to submit the samples for testing, to get the results and then to submit them to the State Department, Harm preferred to have everything taken care of as soon as possible and to be secure knowing that Sergei could stay in the U.S. if he wanted. During the last few weeks, he had discovered that he liked having his little brother around, even if Sergei had been showing a tendency to worry a little too much.

Sergei had tried to brush off his own concerns about his status, having told Harm and Mac just a few days earlier at dinner that his mother had sounded worried when he had last spoken to her and that she would feel better if she could see him in person and reassure herself that he really was okay after his ordeal. Harm later told Mac that he suspected that Sergei was simply trying to avoid setting himself up for disappointment. He'd seen the look in his brother's eyes. He wanted to stay. He was just afraid to hope.

"It's good to see you, Sir," the Marine guard said as Harm slowed to go through the gate into the JAG parking lot.

"It's good to see you too, Sergeant Wilson," Harm replied. It was his first visit to the office since the accident and it felt good to be there, even if only as a visitor, and to see the familiar faces he normally saw every day. It was another milestone he could tick off on his road to recovery. "I'm signing in my brother as a visitor today." He motioned to Sergei, who was ready with his Russian military ID.

Wilson looked the ID over and passed it back along with a visitor's badge, which Sergei clipped to the neckband of his t-shirt. Harm thanked the Marine and pulled through the gate and into his regular parking spot next to Mac's Corvette.

"So this is where you work," Sergei commented idly as they entered the building. As they walked through the halls, Harm was stopped by numerous people who greeted him enthusiastically, asking how he was doing or when he was coming back to work. Sergei was a little surprised that the people happy to see his brother seemed to be an equal mix of officer and enlisted. Most of the people he'd met at the hospital had been officers, with the exception of the two enlisted men who had accompanied his grandmother from Pennsylvania the night of the accident.

It wasn't what he was used to in Russia, where the often-corrupt officers seemed to be off in their own world and the enlisted seen as little more than drones. Harm wasn't merely being shown the respect due an officer of his rank. His brother was obviously well-liked by the people he worked with. It was a completely different world, he marveled, not for the first time.

"Gunny," Harm said as they reached the elevator to find Victor waiting with a file box.

"Commander," Victor said with a grin. "The colonel said you might be stopping by today. It's good to see you."

"I'm glad to see you, too, Gunny," Harm replied. "Gunny, this is my brother, Sergeant Sergei Zhukov. Sergei, this is Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez."

Sergei nodded respectfully. He searched his memory for the American military rank structure, trying to recall if a gunnery sergeant was two or three grades above his own rank. There was no Russian equivalent to the Marines. "We met at the hospital," he reminded his brother. "It's good to see you again, Gunnery Sergeant."

"It's good to see you, too, Sergeant," Victor replied. "How are you enjoying Washington?"

"It's different," Sergei said with a shrug. His experience with cities prior to this was limited to a couple of visits to the airport in Moscow and an hour spent at JFK in New York.

Victor and Harm both laughed at that. Washington was definitely different. "Don't worry," Harm assured his brother as they stepped onto the elevator. "Once we're at Gram's farm, you'll think that you are back at home."

The bullpen was quiet when they stepped off the elevator, a handful of people working studiously at their desks. Harm glanced towards Mac's office, smiling as he noticed the new sign over her door. He knew she had decided to change her name – he'd been surprised one morning shortly after she'd returned to work by the new name tag on her uniform, initially thinking that she had swiped it off one of his uniforms as a joke before she had let him in on the surprise. He'd been more than a little thrilled at the idea of Mac taking his name – and had admitted as much, despite the teasing about being a chauvinist.

Numerous times since then, he'd had to banish the thought that it might not have been his name Mac was now using, especially as Mic continued to insinuate himself into their lives. He didn't know that Mac had been planning to take Mic's name – and he didn't want to know. It was one of those things that he was trying to ignore as part of the past that didn't matter anymore. Sarah Brumby was never going to exist now, he thought thankfully.

"Gunny!"

"If you'll excuse me, Sir, Sergeant," Gunny said, leaving Harm and Sergei to deliver the box he was carrying to Loren, who was glaring angrily at him from across the bullpen.

"Who is that?" Sergei asked. She looked vaguely familiar, so he thought he might have met her at the hospital, but it was hard to tell with her hair tightly pulled back off her face. He thought back to the people he had met briefly in Portsmouth, trying to make a connection in his mind. There had been two blond women, as he recalled, one of whom he remembered as the mother of Harm's godson. Perhaps this was the other one, although she had looked different at the hospital with her hair loose and casual. He decided that the casual look was better on her.

"That is Lieutenant Singer," Harm replied. "She's one of the junior attorneys here."

"I did meet her at the hospital?"

"Probably," Harm said. Loren had been there, so he assumed Sergei might have met her. He glanced at his brother, shaking his head. There was nothing wrong with his brother having an eye for the ladies. It was something else entirely if that lady was a barracuda like Loren Singer. "She's much older than you….and way out of your league."

"Out of my league?" Sergei repeated, unfamiliar with the idiom, although he thought he could guess the meaning based on Harm's tone.

"Never mind," Harm muttered. He quickly changed the subject. "Do you want to wait in Mac's office while I see the admiral? I think she's in court this morning."

"Perhaps I can wait out here and meet some more of your friends," Sergei suggested in an innocent tone, his eyes still on Loren.

"Behave," Harm said with an exaggerated sigh.

* * *

"Take a seat, Commander," AJ said, glancing at Harm over the top of his glasses as he signed some papers.

"Yes, Sir," Harm replied, taking a seat and waiting patiently while AJ finished what he was doing. After a moment, AJ tossed his pen down on top of the stack of papers and removed his glasses.

"How are you doing, Commander?" he asked.

"I'm doing better, Admiral," Harm said. "I just had an appointment with my neurologist at Bethesda. She said it's possible I will be able to return to work around mid-July."

AJ quirked an eyebrow at that. His doctor said it was possible, or Harm was pushing for it? Knowing Harm, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. Harm's health wasn't the only consideration, however. "Commander, on a somewhat related topic, I spoke to Commander Turner this morning," he said. "The inquiry into your crash has been scheduled for the twelfth. It will be held here at headquarters."

"Then this will all be over around the time the doctor is ready to clear me for duty," Harm said confidently.

"You sound sure of that, Commander," AJ commented.

"I am."

AJ studied him for a moment and then nodded. He hadn't really expected any other answer, but it was gratifying to hear it all the same. It was a good sign that Harm didn't seem to be second-guessing himself. He just hoped that the board would see it the same way. He'd been keeping an eye on the inquiry – as discreetly as possible considering the circumstances – and he knew that if Mic's planned testimony was discounted, it was pretty clear that the crash had been caused by mechanical failure combined with the weather. They could only hope that the board would see it that way.

"So what can I do for you, Commander?" AJ asked. He knew Harm hadn't come by the office just to update him on his medical condition – he could have done that over the phone.

"I was hoping, Sir," Harm replied, "that there might be some work that I could do at home while I'm recuperating, drafting briefs or something."

"I see," AJ said. He leaned back in his chair, studying Harm for a long moment. He knew how frustrated Harm must be to ask for what was essentially grunt work. Getting him to do paperwork under normal circumstances was like pulling teeth. AJ could understand – that had been him back in the day, before rank had gotten in the way. Now it seemed that paperwork was all he did – paperwork and meetings. "You haven't been cleared for duty, Commander."

"That doesn't mean that I can't do paperwork while I'm at home, Sir," Harm countered.

"There's also the inquiry," AJ pointed out. "You are potentially facing some serious charges."

"Would I be on restricted duty if it were not for my health situation?" Harm asked, leaning forward in the chair. He had the same look in his eyes that he would while delivering an argument before the court. "It is your prerogative as my commanding officer to determine my status in such a case."

"True, if it were only up to me," AJ continued. "Because you were, at least nominally, under the command of Captain Ingles during your TAD, he is the convening authority for the inquiry under the auspices of COMNAVAIRLANT."

"So you think Captain Ingles may insist on limiting me from even restricted duty until everything is resolved, Admiral?"

Actually, AJ thought the opposite. He had seen Captain Ingles' deposition. Ingles no more believed that Harm was at fault for the crash than he did. In fact, he was sure he had seen the word 'hogwash' make an appearance once or twice in the statement with regards to other possible causes for the crash. There may have also been something about 'God himself couldn't have kept that plane in the air that night.'

Ingles' certainty said as much to AJ as Harm's own confidence did. Ingles was known to be stern, but fair. If you screwed up under his command, he would make sure you paid your penalty to the fullest extent under the UCMJ. But if he was on your side, he could be your staunchest ally.

"No, I do not believe that Captain Ingles would argue for restricted duty," AJ said. "But there are other people who are watching this inquiry carefully, Commander."

"Understood, Sir," Harm replied. AJ had warned him of that the day he'd told him the inquiry would be headed by the legal counsel for COMNAVAIRLANT. "But would drafting motions or writing a new will for the sergeant at the guard shack who just had a baby really be worth the attention of COMNAVAIRLANT? I'm not asking to draft classified briefs for the Joint Chiefs, Sir."

Harm paused, considering what he had just said. A new will. Perhaps that was something that he and Mac should talk about, especially after everything that had happened. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"I suppose that is true, Commander," AJ said, breaking into Harm's thoughts. "Let me see what we have around here. Perhaps I can send some things home with the Colonel this evening."

Harm had hoped for something he could start on immediately, but he supposed that it would take some time to find things for him to do. He would have to accept that for now. "Understood, Sir," he said.

"If there is nothing else, Commander?" AJ asked.

"No, Sir," he said, recognizing the dismissal in the tone. He stood and, out of habit, came to attention. "I was going to see if I could speak to Commander Turner about the inquiry."

"Dismissed, Commander," AJ said, picking up his glasses again. Recognizing the sign that AJ was already moving on to other things, Harm swiftly departed the office, closing the door behind him. As he entered the bullpen, he saw Sergei wasn't in Mac's office waiting, but was leaning on the corner of Loren's desk. He rolled his eyes, deciding he would worry about warning his brother more fully about Loren later. He glanced towards his own office, seeing Sturgis behind his desk, making notes in a file. He went over and knocked on the door frame.

"Harm," Sturgis said, looking up from his notes to smile at his old friend. "Mac said you were thinking about stopping by today after your appointment. I was hoping to catch you while you were here."

"To talk about the inquiry?" Harm asked, closing the door behind him. "The admiral just told me that it's on the calendar."

"Yes," he said, motioning to Harm to take a seat. "I've gotten everyone else's statements, but I've been holding off on yours because of your medical situation."

"You mean the holes in my memory?" Harm had discussed it briefly with Sturgis on a visit after he'd been released from the hospital, and Sturgis hadn't pushed the issue, although Harm wondered if part of it might not have been the stern-looking Marine standing over them during the conversation.

"I know you said that some of your memories were a little vague," Sturgis said. From the statements he'd read from Harm's doctors, it was not unexpected. He was hoping that a few weeks' removal from the events would have helped Harm fill in some of the holes.

"I'm clear regarding the events of the flight itself," Harm said. He didn't add that he often woke up in the middle of the night reliving those events, recalling the hours spent out on the ocean wondering if he was ever going to see the woman he loved again. It was part of the reason why he'd pushed himself to stop taking naps during the day. The less he was asleep, the fewer nightmares he would have.

"Well, do you have some time now?" Sturgis asked.

"I've got all the time in the world, Sturgis," Harm said with a wry grin. He leaned forward in his chair, an intent look on his face. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

HALF AN HOUR LATER

Mac's heels clicked against the linoleum floor as she strode through the bullpen as a woman on a mission. Bud had pulled a last minute rabbit out of the hat in court – she knew who he had learned that from and it was no less frustrating than when Harm had pulled similar stunts in the past - and she had to come up with a way to counteract it during the lunch recess. Just as she was about to enter her office, she stopped short at the familiar man perched on the corner of Loren's desk.

"Sergei," she said, turning to walk over to them. Sergei smiled at her, while Loren gave her a slightly challenging glare. Mac ignored the other woman in favor of her brother-in-law. "Harm is with you?"

"Yes, Colonel," he replied, immediately falling back into military habit by calling her by rank, despite their family relationship. "He spoke to the Admiral and now he is with Commander Turner."

"You're not in uniform, Sergei," Mac said with a distracted smile. "You don't have to call me Colonel." She glanced at Harm's closed office door, seeing the two men conversing while Sturgis made notes. "Do you know how long they have been in there?"

Sergei shrugged and looked at Loren, who answered, "About half an hour, Ma'am. I assume they're discussing the inquiry."

Mac sent Loren a stern look to indicate that the topic of their discussion was none of her business. Loren returned the regard with a look which did not come off quite as apologetic as it should have.

Turning her back on Loren, Mac looked at the closed door, wondering if she should interrupt. She knew Harm hadn't given his statement on the crash yet, as Sturgis had been delaying as long as possible out of consideration for Harm's medical condition. It was sure to be emotional, and she ached for Harm to know that she was there for him. She just wasn't sure that Sturgis would appreciate her presence. Ever since that first day when Sturgis had blindsided her with Mic's deposition about their wedding, she had felt like she was walking on egg shells around him. In her head, she knew he was right and that they both had Harm's best interests at heart. She still wondered if Sturgis felt that there wouldn't be so much to be concerned about if it weren't for her screwed up presence in Harm's life.

Before she could decide whether or not to interrupt, the door opened and the men came out of the office, laughing together. Mac released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Harm didn't look to be concerned about whatever he and Sturgis had been discussing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harm saw Mac and went over to greet her, settling for a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek in deference to her uniform.

"I knew you were probably going to stop by after your appointment," Mac said. "How did that go?"

"It was fine," Harm replied without elaboration. There was time to talk in full about it later. "I thought Sergei and I would take you to lunch."

"I'm sorry, I can't," she said regretfully. "Bud pulled a patented rabbit out of a hat move in court today that I need to work on countering."

"Need some help?" Harm asked.

"You're not supposed to be working yet," she pointed out. She opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on her desk.

"You probably should get that," Harm suggested, giving her another quick kiss before waving her towards her office. "I'll see you at home later."

"Okay," Mac said. "I'll see you later." As she went into her office, she pondered their quick conversation. Something seemed off about the exchange, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Chalking it up to Harm knowing she was busy, she picked up the phone and resolved to put it out of her mind for now.

* * *

THAT EVENING

HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

"You're not supposed to be working yet," Mac repeated her earlier statement as she entered the apartment, dropping a stack of files on the kitchen bar where Harm was standing, chopping vegetables for the half-prepared salad in front of him.

"I take it those are the files the Admiral sent home for me?" he asked. He leaned across the bar to kiss her, but she had already turned towards the bedroom to change. He shrugged. Must have been one of those days at work for her.

"I saw the Admiral when I was at JAG today," Harm explained, slightly raising his voice. "He agreed that he could probably find some paperwork that I could work on while on I'm stuck at home until cleared for full duty."

"Do you really think you're ready for that?" Mac asked, her words partially muffled as she pulled a t-shirt over her head. "Or maybe you could have mentioned it to me before the Admiral had Tiner hand me a stack of files to take home to you."

"You were a little busy when I saw you," Harm reminded her. "Bud's rabbit in court, your phone ringing, remember?"

"Actually, I remember that you seemed very quick to get me back to work," she counted. Their conversation had played back through her mind later, and she had decided that it seemed just a little too quick to her, as if he really didn't want to have a discussion.

"You were busy."

"No, it seems to me like you were avoiding talking about the fact that you're not supposed to be working yet," she said with a frustrated sigh.

"It's barely even work," Harm argued, tossing the tomatoes he'd been slicing into the salad bowl. "It's drafting wills and proofreading court briefs."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?" Harm asked. "Because right now it seems to be much ado about nothing. I'm not going out on investigations or arguing in court."

"Much ado?" Mac echoed. "Harm, you almost died! You're supposed to be taking it easy while you recover, not pushing yourself too soon."

"I'm not pushing myself too soon," Harm countered, a hint of anger in his tone, "and I'm tired of people acting like I am. Sergei insisted on coming with me to JAG to keep an eye on me; Sturgis had been avoiding discussing my statement with me; you've been on me for wanting something to do while I'm sitting at home all day. I know how my body feels and what my limits are."

"We're all worried about you," Mac insisted, exasperation creeping into her voice. "I'm worried about you. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Mac," Harm began with a frustrated sigh. Setting down the knife, he went around the counter and went to her in the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his and tugging her down beside him. "I'm not asking for an apology," he said quietly, curling his fingers around hers and squeezing gently. "You're entitled to be worried. I just want you to trust that I know my limits."

"It's not a question of trust," she said quietly, returning the squeeze as she tried to blink back tears. "Do you have no idea how scared….no, terrified I was? I almost lost you!"

"But you didn't," he insisted with a cajoling grin. She didn't return the expression, instead looking down at their clasped hands. "Mac?"

For a brief moment, her nightmare about the _Somers_ flitted through her mind. In hindsight, she'd taken the dream as a warning, a prediction that Mic could have cost her the man she loved. Why else would she have dreamed about it so clearly the night of the crash? Pushing the thought from her mind, she looked back up at him. "I'm fine," she insisted with a firmness she didn't feel. "It's just…."

"I do know, Mac," he replied. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him, resting his chin on top of her head.

She returned the embrace eagerly, luxuriating in the feel of his body, warm and solid, against hers. She'd never really liked to cuddle in bed – a restless sleeper, she had always liked her space - but it had turned into one of her favorite things about being married to him. When she woke in the middle of the night, it was comforting to feel him against her, a tangible reminder that her dreams weren't real and that she wasn't going to lose him.

The buzzer on the oven sounded suddenly, interrupting the peaceful silence surrounding them. Mac's stomach responded by grumbling audibly, eliciting chuckles from both of them. "You skipped lunch," Harm chided her knowingly. "At least tell me it was worth it and you managed to counter Bud's rabbit."

"Of course," she replied smoothly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "I've learned a thing or two over the years about countering your tactics in court."

"My tactics?" Harm countered with a grin that didn't come off quite as innocent as he was trying to appear.

"Yes, your tactics," she said, poking a finger into his stomach to emphasize her point. "I almost thought I was facing you in court this morning."

"I obviously taught Bud well," he proclaimed proudly.

"Hey, shouldn't you be on my side?" she asked in mock indignation.

"I'm on the side of the truth," he replied in a teasing tone. "Did your client do it?"

"I'll tell you about it over dinner," she promised. "Don't you have something to get out of the oven?"

"Let's get you fed," Harm joked, pulling her with him as he got off the bed and headed for the kitchen. "I think you'll like this. It's a chicken casserole recipe my mother got from some Hispanic neighbors we had when Dad was on the Tico."

"Not your usual fare," she commented.

"Baby steps," he joked as he released her, waving her towards the table. "I know it's going to take time to convert you to healthier eating habits."

She laughed, remembering his early disgust at her favorite foods. Some things never changed. "Not even a month married and already trying to change me."

"It's not trying to change you to ensure you're with me for a long time," he countered.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

To be continued...

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES -

Sorry for the delay in posting this part, but I had an injection in my neck last week for my herniated discs and got really sick for several days afterwards. Then the Harm and Mac in my head decided that instead of inspiring me for this part, they wanted to hold a discussion that isn't going to take place until part 1 of chapter V (slow down, guys - there are places to go before you get there).

This part is mostly exposition, but it's important as this is where the story subtly starts building towards the climax of chapter IV, plus it introduces a sub-plot involving Sergei which will run through the rest of this chapter and part of the next. No, I'm not going to give any hints on the climax, except to say that it's the climax of the entire saga. If you remember studying the structure of Shakespeare's plays in high school, the climax of his tragedies always took place in act three (ie, the death of Caesar in _Julius Caesar_ or Romeo's killing of Tybalt in _Romeo and Juliet_), roughly at the middle of the play, before the action falls towards the dénouement (not that this is a tragedy, or Shakespeare). I can't tell you how many more parts it will take until we get to that climax, but that's not because I don't know where the story is going. I have a very detailed outline for chapter IV, but the parts are breaking out differently than I planned in the original outline (the original parts were longer and what is posted today as part 11 was original only a section of part 5 - I'm trying to limit the number of 30-40 page parts, if you guys remember some of the parts I posted back in the days of 'Can't Fight This Feeling Chapter V'). I just need to sit down with the outline and set the new story breaks, then I can tell you how many parts Lean on Me will be.

The next part of DOALS will pick up with Harm and Mac traveling to Skates' wedding, with Mac overhearing a conversation between Harm and Skates which makes her start wondering about things. The subtle building towards the climax of this part will not be quite so subtle in the next part, and that's all I can say for now.

And now for a few miscellaneous notes - As I'm sure you've figured out by now, I'm alternating between DOALS and Days. DOALS is much more _sturm und drang_ - really, despite the subject matter of Days - so it helps to be able to step away from DOALS and write about a Harm and Mac who are happy and in a good place, relatively speaking. In Days, Harm and Mac have spent the better part of two years (going back to 'Dreams and Revelations' in October 2000) learning how to communicate with each other, and unlike Harm's first return to flying, his second (plus having Tori) has brought them closer together. Their conflicts in that story are external. DOALS has both internal and external conflict, and it's going to be the internal ones which will play heavily into the climax of DOALS - this is a Harm and Mac who got together quickly under trying circumstances, so they have to go back and figure out the hard way a lot of the things they've already learned in the 'Calendar Girl' timeline. They're going to learn the hard way that getting married in DOALS didn't suddenly solve all their problems.

And for those of you who have been asking, yes, I do plan to return to 'Searching For Sunny Skies'. I have an outline for that story somewhere that I'm trying to find. It's around here somewhere, but a lot of my fan fiction stuff got scattered when I had to rebuild my main desktop after a virus.

And finally, here's a little humorous aside - I was watching the Rangers' game tonight while doing my final edits on part 11. At one point, I started talking to the TV (ask my dogs - I do that a lot during sporting events, which they don't always like, especially if things aren't going well) and I called Josh Hamilton "Harm". Tells you where my mind was tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

FRIDAY AFTERNOON  
29 JUNE 2001  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION

Mac entered the apartment, dropping her keys and purse onto the desk with a heavy sigh and setting her briefcase on the floor next to it. She had just finished a frustrating week at work – not all of it having to do with work itself - and wanted nothing more than to kick back and forget all about it. She heard Harm moving around in the bathroom and called out, "Harm, I'm home."

She moved towards the bedroom, unbuttoning her uniform blouse, stopping in surprise as she spied the open suitcase on the bed, his dress whites laid out in a dry cleaning bag next to the suitcase. Sure, they were leaving for Annapolis first thing in the morning, but they still had plenty of time to pack. "Harm?" she asked as she climbed the steps.

Harm stepped out of the bathroom, a toiletries bag in his hand. "Hey," he said with a welcoming grin, dropped the bag into the suitcase. Going over to her, he wrapped his arms around her, dipping his head to lightly brush his lips over hers. "Welcome home."

"What's going on?" she asked, stepping back to look at him. Suddenly, her brow furrowed in puzzlement and she glanced around the apartment. Jingo usually came to greet her as soon as she walked in the door, and with the turmoil that she was trying to drive from her mind, she had just realized that he wasn't there. "Where's Jingo?"

"Jingo is with Sergei already," he explained, "and this is a mini-getaway. Since you said there wasn't much going on at work, I figured you probably wouldn't be bringing any work home this weekend, so I called a few days ago and made reservations for us at the Marriott on the waterfront in Annapolis. I thought we could drive up there this evening and come back Sunday afternoon."

"But we're getting away next weekend for the holiday," Mac said.

"Yeah, but the entire family's going to be there," Harm reminded her with a shrug. "I thought we could take a few days just for us. I know it won't be much…." He trailed off uncertainly, looking past her to a point just over her shoulder.

She bit back a sigh. He had been pushing himself to recover, but there was one particular area where his body was refusing to cooperate as of yet. Although he tried to hide his feelings as much as possible and was just as attentive to her needs in bed as he'd been in sickbay on the day they'd married, she knew he was getting increasingly frustrated over the situation. She had been trying to assure him that it would be better soon, but she knew he wasn't entirely convinced.

It didn't matter to her, she had insisted one evening in an attempt to get him to talk about it. She'd wanted him to know that she was there for him no matter what, that she could wait until he was ready. He had looked at her oddly when she'd said that, and it had taken a few minutes before it had clicked in her mind.

_What was I supposed to do?_

_Wait._

_For how long?_

_As long as it takes._

Did he think that this was going to cause them to go backwards, back to the way things were? She had been afraid to ask the question, so she had kept silent. They might be married, but they were still trying to find their way with each other. She was afraid, too - terrified that something might still tear asunder the fragile fabric of their relationship. They were still walking through a minefield and the slightest misstep could cost them dearly. She couldn't take that risk.

"You know my feelings on the subject," she said insistently, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them reassuringly. "But maybe a change of scenery will be beneficial." She wasn't really convinced, had to push back the fear that this could blow up on them, but she found that she couldn't deny him when he'd gone through the trouble to plan this.

After a long moment, he brought his gaze back to hers and managed a weak grin. "Great minds think alike," he said.

"Just promise me you won't push it," she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. It wasn't easy, especially when she would wake up after dreaming of their one night together and had to resist the urge to reach for him, to find that sweet, intoxicating pleasure that she now knew they could find together.

But his body had been through hell little over a month ago and this was his third ejection. No matter how much they wished it, he wasn't going to bounce back overnight. Now that he was well on his way to recovery from the head injury, he had started doing physical therapy for both his back and his knee. Back problems – and the associated complications – were not uncommon in a situation like Harm's, but the orthopedic doctor seemed confident that some back strengthening exercises would relieve the pressure on the nerves in his lower body and things would return to normal without other intervention. "Let's just enjoy this weekend and whatever happens happens."

Harm returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly against him. Working the muscles of his lower back with her fingers, Mac willed him to relax. Slowly, she could feel the tension leave him and he unwound beneath her touch, his arms loosening around her. "That feels good," he murmured against her hair, his breath against her sending shivers down her spine.

Reluctantly, she clamped down on the flame beginning to flicker to life inside of her. It wasn't time, not right now. It would probably only lead to frustration and a bad start to their weekend. "There's more where that came from later," she promised, looking up at him with a smile that wasn't entirely forced. If nothing else, he seemed to relax more when she gave him a back rub. It wasn't much, but she figured that every little bit helped. "So what do I need to pack for this weekend?"

Harm looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged. "Casual clothes, mostly," he replied. "I thought we could spend some time wandering around the waterfront, and maybe go sailing Sunday morning before we head back. Some workout clothes and a bathing suit – there's a gym and indoor pool at the hotel. A nice dress for dinner tonight. Your dress for tomorrow, of course. I think that's about it."

"How nice are we talking about for dinner tonight?" she asked, glancing back at the closet. All of their dinners out in the last month had been at casual restaurants where they could make a relatively quick exit if Harm wore down, places where jeans and a nice shirt were perfectly acceptable.

"Like you might wear to La Tours, I guess," he replied. "The restaurant is partnered with the hotel, so it's on the upscale side."

"Then we definitely need to stop by my apartment before heading out of town," she said, taking a quick inventory of her clothes. "All my dinner dresses are there, along with my bathing suits."

"See," Harm said with a laugh as he stepped out of her arms and pulled a garment bag from the closet. "You really should let me get started on expanding this place then you wouldn't have to keep running over there." Placing it on the bed, he laid his dress whites in the bag. Retrieving a thin velvet case from a dresser drawer, he opened it to examine the contents, making sure everything was in its proper place. Snapping it closed, he tucked it into the suitcase and turned to Mac, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. "Do you want to put your dress for tomorrow in here, too?"

"Sure," she said, going over to pull the dress out of the closet, holding it against her body as she had when she'd first shown it to him. She had checked out her closet the previous week while picking up some more things from her apartment and had decided she didn't have anything she really wanted to wear to Skates' wedding. Dragging Harriet with her, she had hit the mall, finally finding a dress she liked – and that didn't set her back too much – in Nordstrom's. The full length dress of purplish-gray silk had a cowl-back which fell open nearly to her waist, exposing her back. A part of her had hoped it might have a certain effect on her sailor when he saw her in it. From what she could tell from the speculative gleam in his eye, he seemed to already be imagining her in it – or maybe he was visualizing getting her out of it.

She laid the dress inside the garment bag, trying not to muse it too much, although she guessed that the hotel had a laundry service and could probably steam out any wrinkles for her. She nearly jumped when Harm came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Sorry," she said, covering his hands with hers, linking her fingers through his. "You just startled me."

"Sorry about that," he replied as she leaned back against him, tilting her head to she could look up at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm just ready to start the weekend and forget about work for a while."

Harm smiled down at her, a full-blown flyboy grin that had her falling so far that she was positive the only thing holding her upright was his arms around her. "Well, why don't you get changed and pack what you can then we can get going?"

Mac stretched up and gave him a quick kiss before slipping from his arms. Turning her back to him, she finished unbuttoning her blouse and pulled it off, her eyes scanning the closet. After she had finished removing her uniform and pantyhose, she pulled out a deep red silk blouse and put it on. Harm had expressed appreciation for the way it looked on her a few weeks ago after a dinner with his family. She'd had men tell her she was beautiful before, but this meant so much more because the words had come from him. She'd been so unsure for so long about his feelings that she treasured every little scrap of affection from him like she never had from any other man, even the one she'd nearly married. With a sigh, she pushed the thought from her mind and forced herself to focus on what to pack.

Completing the outfit with a pair of jeans and comfortable flats – since he had mentioned a walk later on the waterfront – she started going through her drawers, picking out clothes to pack for the weekend. Shorts and a couple of t-shirts joined Harm's clothes in the suitcase, but she hesitated when she got to the second drawer.

Should she go basic or fancy with the lingerie? On the trip to the mall, she had picked up a few things with a thought towards an eventual honeymoon with Harm, whenever that finally happened. Although he was unlikely to know the difference, she didn't want to wear for Harm anything she had bought for Mic. The things she had purchased to take to Australia were packed away in a box in a closet at her old apartment. She had also packed away the bikini she'd worn on the beach in Australia when things had begun to go disastrously wrong for them. The clothes could be donated and she'd figure out what to do with the lingerie and bikini later.

She glanced behind her, exhaling with relief that Harm was in the bathroom. She didn't need to explain this to him. Turning back to the dresser, she lingered a moment over a sheer confection of midnight blue, letting the silky fabric slip through her fingers as she imagined the look on Harm's face when he eventually saw her in it.

With a shake of her head, she let it fall from her hand and opted to go simple. If things worked out, she wouldn't be wearing anything for long anyway. If not….it would only be a frustrating reminder. She picked out a couple of nightgowns and some underwear and packed them in the suitcase.

"Hey, Mac," Harm said as he came out of the bathroom, "Where's your toiletries bag?"

She grabbed her overnight bag out of the bottom of the closet and retrieved the requested bag. "In my overnight bag, where it usually is," she replied as she tossed the bag to him. Harm laughed as he made an easy catch before tossing it into the suitcase.

"Doesn't look like your overnight bag is packed and ready to go," he teased, nodding towards the bag as she dropped it back on the floor of the closet.

A puzzled look settled over her face at the apparent non-sequitur. She didn't need her overnight bag….her expression cleared as she remembered. A warm, genuine smile spread across her face at the memory. "Between Skates' wedding and the upcoming holiday," she explained cheekily, "I didn't think the possibility of going out of town on a case was very high, so I haven't repacked it yet after my overnight trip to Norfolk the end of last week. I can't believe you remembered that."

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. "I remember everything you say," he said quietly, his breath hot and sensual against her ear.

"Do you?" she marveled just as softly as she covered his hands with hers, reveling in the simple feeling of just *being* in his arms. She felt so comfortable, so safe, wrapped in his arm, his strong body surrounding hers, his warmth enveloping her. If only it was that easy, if they could just stay like this forever and forget completely about the outside world and the uncertainty still tainting their life.

"Of course," he replied, tightening his arms around her. "I always have."

It touched her, even as she admitted to herself that she was mildly surprised at this particular memory. Given his strong reaction upon meeting her and what she eventually learned was the reason for it, she was amazed that he could recall anything specific about those earlier hours and days of their partnership outside of the case, let alone a seemingly innocuous remark she'd made barely an hour after they'd met. She smiled as she remembered his teasing rejoinder.

_Ah, I guess that's the difference between sailors and Marines. I keep golf clubs in the trunk of my car._

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his heart warming at the smile on her face. Smiles had become so rare these days from either of them. He remembered what she'd said that first day about there being so little to smile about. That certainly seemed to apply now. That was part of the reason for getting away for the entire weekend, aside from the hope that something might finally happen. Maybe being away from everything and being able to just focus on themselves without their reality weighing them down, they would find cause to smile. That had been one of the things he had missed the most the last couple of years, how easy it had been to find reasons to smile around her.

"Just remembering," she replied with a soft sigh. "We were so good together, even at the beginning."

"We still are," Harm insisted, slightly disappointed at the past tense, even as he recognized the reason for it. He hoped this weekend would help begin to put some of the uncertainty behind them. "I know it hasn't been easy the last few years, but that's behind us now."

_Is it really_, she wondered. Turning slightly in his arms, she locked her eyes on his, losing herself in the conviction she saw etched in their blue-grey depth. For just a moment, she found herself believing that it could be just that simple, if they just had enough faith.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she closed the short distance between them, brushing her lips lightly over his. After a moment, Harm's arms tightened around her, pulling her firm against him as he tugged at his lower lip, nipping the soft flesh as she moaned deep in her throat.

One of his hands slipped up her silk-covered back to tangle in her hair, the other cupping her denim-covered rear as the kiss deepened. "Sarah," he groaned between kisses growing in intensity. "Oh, Sarah…."

Even now, her first name came so rarely from his lips that she treasured every utterance of it from him, a pleasurable warmth spreading through her at the sound. Something tightened deep inside her and she sagged against him, the only thing holding her upright his strong arms wrapped securely around her.

"Oh, Harm," she said in a ragged whisper as she broke off, struggling to regulate her breathing as she rested her forehead against his. Gently, she stroked his cheek with her fingers, his own breathing as irregular as hers.

"I guess we need to get going," he said reluctantly, loosening his grip on her while keeping her within the circle of his embrace, "especially if we need to stop at your apartment." He turned his arm slightly so he could glance at his watch. "I did make our dinner reservations a little later than normal, but we don't want to wait too long before getting on the road. We'll probably run into the tail end of rush hour heading out of the city."

"You're right," she said. Much as she wanted to just lose herself with him right now, she knew it was probably too much at this particular moment. Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips, his glazed eyes drawn to the movement.

"We'll continue this later," he vowed, his voice shaking slightly as he struggled to keep his own emotions under control. His fingers untangled from her hair, tenderly smoothing down the mussed tresses.

"Yes, later," she said, nodding.

Reluctantly, she slipped from his arms, and glanced at the open suitcase on the bed. The moment between them fading, she closed the suitcase, slowly pulling the zipper closed. "I've got everything I need from here," she said, lifting the suitcase, leaving him the garment bag.

"Then let's go," he said, draping the garment bag over an arm as she proceeded down the steps. As she stopped to grab her purse, he scooped up his keys and opened the door, motioning her through. With a smile directly to her, he pulled the door closed behind them and locked it.

As they waited for the elevator to come up, Harm draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. She let her head rest against his shoulder, once again losing herself in the simple sense of just being with him.

To be continued...

* * *

Author's notes -

I'd given you a little preview of this part after I posted part 11, but those events have been pushed back a little. First, I was having a little problem with writer's block (and returning to work on the 11th after a couple months on disability due to my neck issues), then Harm decided to inject himself in my story plans and wanted to do a little something for Mac when they get away for Skates' wedding. So this part and the next part will comprise Harm's little surprise for Mac, with the events surrounding the conversation Mac will overhear at the wedding reception happening after that in part 14. Also in part 14, we'll get more information about the frustrating week at work that Mac briefly thinks about in this part, which will partly play into decisions that Mac makes later in the chapter. There are some hints of Mac's inner turmoil in this part, which can be best summarized by a quote from Maria in _West Side Story_ - "It's not us. It is everything around us." Unfortunately, that will change by the end of the wedding reception, with Mac beginning to wonder if maybe "us" isn't a large part of the problem. Remember, I previously said that Harm and Mac are experiencing both internal and external problems in this chapter, with the internal ones being the driving force behind the eventual climax.

And I'm not talking about the problem between Harm and Mac that I reveal in this part. I had debated about whether to include this or just let it go without explanation. It's not going to be a major plot point - so don't worry when you first read this part - and it will be resolved before the end of 'Lean on Me' (with the two additional parts that have been added here, and provided no other such interjections, it will be resolved in part 19). Finally, I decided to include it because even without the head injury he suffered, after three ejections, there are going to be physical repercussions from what happened, especially since Harm's no longer exactly a spring chicken. In the grand scheme of things, it's really going to turn out to be fairly minor compared to the emotional turmoil Harm and Mac will go through, but it's just one more thing that they have to deal with in the aftermath of the crash.

And speaking of parts, I did go back through my outline for 'Lean on Me' and redid the part breakup. This chapter will run approximately 30-35 parts. I still don't have an exact count because one section (between Harm's return to work after the inquiry and the beginning of the events leading to the climax) covers several weeks. I'm still undecided whether I will just have one part there which will basically be a recap of minor events during those weeks or whether I will break it up further into several parts and expound on some things. Like what happened here, Harm and/or Mac may decide to provide some inspiration to throw some more parts in there before the deluge begins.

Miscellaneous notes - I have been working on the next part of 'Searching For Sunny Skies' as I promised, but a small bout of writer's block has affected that story too as the part I'm working on has gone in a slightly different direction than originally planned. I have gotten quite a bit done on the part, but with the change from original plan, I have to make sure I cover all the points I originally wanted to cover in this part and that it all makes sense in terms of where the story is going and I'm still figuring out a little how to do that.. I still plan to have that up soon. It's just taking a little longer than originally planned. Also, last night, I had an idea pop into my head for a short story (two parts at most, one from Mac's POV and one from Harm's) that takes place _post-Paraguay_. I'm sure that surprises all of you, considering how you all know I feel about that storyline. My fandom of JAG still bears the scars of those events, unfortunately. Although I own the complete series on DVD, I have never even opened season 9 and have only watched one episode from the season 10 set (no surprise which one). This story will not exactly be a fix - in fact, it's pretty depressing the way it's playing out in my head and some parts of it even brought me to tears just thinking about it - but let's just call it my attempt at making Mac realize just how awful and ungrateful she was towards Harm in Paraguay (yes, I do mostly blame her - Harm at least at the excuse of being injured after the crash) and her trying to figure out a way to fix it with him and convince him that it can be fixed - he _will not_ be so easily persuaded. I was having a hard time sleeping last night, so I almost started writing it out then, but decided to wait and see how I felt about it today. It won't let go of me, despite the subject matter, so I'll probably start writing it out as soon as I post this.


End file.
